Keep Guessing
by Metamorphis
Summary: [WIP] Draco makes a bet that he can make any girl the prom queen. So pity that girl just happened to be Hermione Granger. Could they overcome House rivalry and nosy friends to win a bet together? Do they even want to win together? A quiky DMHG fic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm such a horrible person – every time I start writing something, I never finish it… perhaps I should reform and become a better person noble expression or keep to a strict update guideline. Below is my newest work (which I started NOT because I can't be bothered updating my older fics, but because despite the over 100 people who read the first chapter of 'Ain't Got No Love', only 2 reviewed :'( ) which I have every intention of FINISHING. Honest.**

**So, anyway, the story below is based on the film 'She's All That', with a few side-plots from other movies (brownie points for anyone who can figure out what they are), starring the famous star-crossed couple: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.**

**Disclaimer:** I **DO NOT** own anything that you recognise (pretty much everything), including plot lines from She's All That, as well as from the Harry Potter set of books.

* * *

**Keep Guessing**

**Chapter One**

By Metamorphis

* * *

**"Harry! Ron! Get up!"**

…

"GET UP THIS INSTANT OR I SWEAR I'LL PUSH BOTH OF YOU OFF THE ASTRONOMY TOWER"

Hang on. Hermione fumed, I haven't got enough arm muscles for that.

"IF YOU DON'T GET UP I SWEAR I'LL DO SOMETHING DRASTIC," brief pause, stirring from two dead asleep lumps known to the rest of the world as Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, "hmmmmm… I'LL GO SNOG MALFOY NOW!" at that statement, the two figures in question abruptly jumped out of their respective beds, leaping a foot into the air as if a very, very large bucket of cold water had been dumped on each. Ron turned a beetroot red, looking like a cross between a enraged buffalo and a disgusted human being, Harry looked around wildly, trying to figure out why everything looked so blurry until he had located his glasses.

"You… Malfoy?"

"Bad mental image" Harry gagged, slapping himself repeatedly on the face.

Hermione winkled her nose. Honestly, drowsy minds are so malleable, you can feed them anything and they'd soak it right up.

"For the Boy Who Lived, you're really gullible Harry." Harry hastily shut has gaping mouth. Ron looked confused, trying to comprehend Hermione's speech on an empty stomach, to no avail. He finally gave up and shrugged, looking at Harry. Hermione grinned and went to fetch her books for another day of study, at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.

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The Great Hall was a sight to behold, a vast antechamber with corridors leading like ateries to smaller rooms and chambers thoughout the school. It's ceiling, enchanted to look the sky, at both day and night, was today a clear pastel blue, with smudges of white fluffy clouds and falling snowflakes which magically disappeared as they reached the chandeliers which hung, suspended in thin air. Despite the time – 8 o'clock in the morning on a school day, with classes due to start in an hour, only a handful of students were up, most still functioning on holiday mode. Unsurprisingly, a great number of the older Slytherin students were already having breakfast, as they, conditioned after sleeping for many years in the cold dugeons which were their dormitories, knew that the dungeons feel a lot colder if you wake up later, since them, by comparison the Great Hall will be pleasantly warm, instead of chilly as it is now.

So it comes as no surprise then, that the centre of the Slytherin table was the epicentre of the Hall's activities, as most of the older students were concerntrated there. One such student was Draco Malfoy, who was, at that moment, listening to his girlfriend Pansy Parkinson's monologue. Now many of you may go "Ewwww, Parkinson, ugly, pug-like" but, sadly, all things change, as Malfoy is about to find out, for the better and for the worse –

"Draco, you know I like you right?" Pansy fluttered her eyelashes in what is commonly conceived as a seductive manner at Draco, who didn't know whether or not to be worried, since his girlfriend ( who has, thankfully, grown out of her pug phase into a presentable human being) used the word 'like' instead of 'love'.

"Um… yes?" Pansy raised her eyebrows

"And you'll have no hard feelings if I break up with you right?" It was Draco's turn for his eyebrows to rise above his hair line. Pansy Parkinson dumped **_Draco Malfoy_? U – N – B – E – L – I – E – V – A – B – L – E.** Since when would anyone dump the sex god of Hogwarts (as voted for by the Girl's Toilet's Poll, Presidents Lavender Brown and the Patil twins), and more disturbingly, who for? Who would choose someone over Draco Malfoy – intelligent, good-looking, with a fixation for making people from other House's lives hell – at this moment his thoughts were once again bought to the attention of his girlfriend. Wait, make that his ex girlfriend : no one tries to ditch him and gets away with it!

"Draco? Are you still listening?" Pansy peered into Draco's eyes, which were staring blankly back at her, " I met this great guy during the break, and we decided to get together, isn't that great? And what's more, he's the star of the hot new show on Wizard Network ( a magical 'TV' station) "The Real Life" – "

Draco nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. Oh, he knew who she was talking about alright. That guy, the dyslexic (not that there's anything wrong with that) Quiditch player for England, Dylan what'shisname. Draco considered it as a personal insult that his name started with a 'D'.

"Drakey, are you ok? I was hoping that the news wasn't going to shock you _too_ much, I mean, its not as if we went out for ages."

"Yeah, but still, we were a couple, and the only reason we didn't go out was 'cos the only trips we took were to _my_ bedroom."

"Pfft, you weren't even that great in bed, and did you really think I was going to give up a chance like this for our _nonexistent_ relationship?" Pansy peered at Draco's face as she too, stood up. " You did? Awww, how sweet." Draco fumed at the jibe about his abilities in bed, that is so not true, he thought.With a flick of her hair, Pansy was gone, and the Great Hall, having nothing else to eavesdrop on, was filled with whispers about the exchange that took place a few moments ago at the Slytherin table.

Draco mutely sat back down, clenching his fist around his goblet of pumpkin juice. Blaise (who is a guy) smirked and pushed his dark hair back with a nonchalant grace. Draco looked at Blaise, who was his best friend, ahem, closest associate in Hogwarts. If possible, Blaise's smirk grew even boader.

"So, heard you and the missus broke up." Draco winced, Blaise was never taught in the art of subtlety.

"Yeah"

"Got anyone else set in the sights?" Blaise looked as if he thoroughly enjoyed interrogating Draco.

"Yep, the hottest girl you can name in the school."

"Who? You mean Pansy." Draco was positively fuming at this point and imagined his hands clenched firmly around Blaise's neck, Blaise continued as if he couldn't tell Draco's anger at this point " Yeah, she's hot alright. Pity she dumped you eh? Now you have no date for the Graduation Ball, and she's gonna be the prom queen. Ouch, killed two birds with one stone." Blaise carefully inspected his fingernails on his left hand.

"I can make anyone the prom queen if I wanted." Draco slammed his fists down the table.

"Oh really now?" Draco nodded in confirmation, gritting his teeth, "I sense an interesting bet coming along." Blaise, much to Draco's annoyance, was still examing his fingernails.

"You name the terms."

" Ok, you have 8 weeks to make any girl I choose the prom queen. Simple enough?"

A silent nod in agreement.

"Right and the loser has to…" Now Blaise was really concerntrating, though his face soon widened, once again, into another smirk "we'll sort that one out later. Since you're on a tight schedule, I'll pick the girl for you now : Hermione Granger."

There were certain words or phrases which people regarded as a certain herald for a horrible, horrible death for them. For the majority of the school, their word or phrase did not contain the noun(s) 'Hermione Granger', but then, the majority of the school wasn't on enmity terms with her. How was he meant to get within 3 feet of her without being on the wrong end of her wand and pelted with her mudblood curses? And how was he going to tame her hair, and fix her fetish for shapeless robes in EIGHT weeks. This was definitely a challenge, and he was going to need any help he could get.

"It's a deal."

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**A/N: Voila! The first chapter of the story… yay :o). Reviews are, as always, really welcome and if you have the time, please check out some of my other fanfics.**

**Cheers,**

**Evie**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm writing this more out of habit than anything else, but hey, at least I'm writing a full A/N at the bottom of this story. Anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned the rights to Harry Potter**

**I wish I owned the rights to Harry Potter**

**I wish I owned the rights to Harry Potter**

**I wish I owned the rights to Harry Potter**

**Nope, still not J.K. Rowling yet, sorry people (i.e. I DON'T own anything you recognise :( )**

* * *

**Keep Guessing**

**Chapter 2**

**by Metamorphis**

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Professor Flitwick hovered perilously above the floor as he addressed his students, this period comprising of 7th year Gryffindors and Slytherins, about the dangers of performing the Statua Constantia charm. As his voice droned over the body of students, the majority of students who were shooting glares and threatening gestures at each other, Flitwick was once again reminded of Dumbledore's, ahem, eccentricities. To any other man who possessed a common brand of common sense, they would immediately have realised the futility of placing two houses at enmity together in a class to promote inter-house harmony. Indeed, it was much more likely that a inter-house brawl would result 100 times over by the time any harmony would result. Still, there was a 1 in 100 chance… And, Dumbledore hasn't been wrong about most things lately. Flitwick was brought back to earth (figuratively – he would never suffer the indignity of falling on his backside to the floor, especially in front of his students) by who else but one Ms. Granger's hand which was as usual waving in the air.

"Professor? Professor? It says in Advanced Charms here that with the addition of an extra half loop to the Celtic cross movement which must be performed in order for this spell to work the illusion will also be able to hold magical properties, but doesn't this defy the conventions of magic working which states that common charms could only be performed such that the charm itself could not be manipulated to cause harm to the community?"

"Yes Ms. Granger," Flitwick was surprised, Ms. Granger was the first student to have ever noticed the fine print written on the margin of the book. "However, as you may have also noticed that it requires a great deal of concentration to just conjure of non magical, non dimensional illusions, let alone attaching magical properties onto the illusion. To attach magical properties means that you must conjure the illusion in at least 5 dimensions – 4th for time and 5th for magic, this means that unless you have a very clear mental clarity from which you can work a 3 dimensional image into being, you would need a model made from your magic, which comes from your life force, also, the placement of the exta half-loop on the cross is also a very ticky, not to mention tedious process, as the spell could backfire onto the person who is casting it, thus causng the caster to become a mere illusion. This attachment has never been achieved in the last century, save for by one wizard."

By now the whole class (for once) was paying attention, their feud momentarily forgotten. They were absorbed by the tidbit of information which pops once or twice in a Charms lesson which made the entire subject tolerable.

"And does _anyone _know who this wizard may be?" For once it wasn't just Hermione who raised her hand in the air – she was joined by Harry, Ron and Draco. "Yes Mr. Malfoy?"

"The only Statua Constantia charm performed in the last century which had magical properties was the first Dark Mark, cast by Voldemort himself" Draco's voice remained steady as he spoke more to the class than Flitwick, who was looking at him steadily over the tall desk, assessing him. "The Mark had twin serpents which are still rumoured to haunt Gryffindor's Hollow and are possessed by fragments of his soul."

Hermione looked at him in shock, it was strange to see that Mafoy had brains under his hair, and enough brains, not to mention sense, to distance himself from the memory of his father. She shivered at the thought of Lucius Malfoy - he was not a man to be taken lightly, and he had come very close to casting several killing curses towards herself and her friends. Hermione's eyes wandered towards Ron and Harry. Ron was still lanky and tall, but had matured (if only slightly) after Bill's attacked by the werewolf. Harry now seemed happier and younger since his 'duty' as he had come to think of it, was finished and at last he could concerntate on being a normal teenagedboy.

"You do understand, Mr. Malfoy, that whilst it is possible, depending on the mental clarity of the wizard, that magical poperties could be attached to the illusion, there is no proof whatsoever that fragments of a wizard's soul could be attached?"

"With all due respect sir, I hardly doubt that Voldemort has ever achieved any peace at all though the murder of human beings, let alone mental clarity."

"True, however, it is undebatable that Voldemort did gain more power by depositing his soul in several Horocruxes in mostly inanimate objects, and from this artefacts he can draw 'clarity' since they, the Horocruxes, have no soul and no thoughts, and hence 'clarity'"

Flitwick was surprised that Draco had so much understanding into the Statua Constantia charm, but, he chided himself, it was only fitting, as he is the second best in the class, not far behind Hermione. As if able to divine his thoughts, Ms. Granger looked at himself and then Mr. Malfoy. Despite the destruction of Voldemort not even half a year ago, the Malfoy family (now headed by Draco after his father died in the last battle) had renounced all their fortune, save for their mansion and enough gold for basic necessities (which is quite a fortune in itself), giving it to the wizarding community as a repentance to Lucius's crimes, which has besmirched the family's name. Not, that it made them any more likeable – the sheer amount of gold, when finally revealed to the community, made the community hate them even more: the mountain of gold they had kept to themselves, and everyone felt wronged by Fate's slight of hand which robbed them, they think, of their own share of the fortune.

A shuffling of seats captured Flitwick's attention and reminded him of the end of the class. It is funny how his mind wondered so freely now that Voldemort is vanquished, Flitwick mused, true, most of the community is still in bad repair, and it would take years to reconcile the innocent who have been antagonized by the Death Eaters and indeed the whole of Britain. It seemed strange that so powerful a wizard could be brought down a boy not even of age. Perhaps these youngsters had a lot of ability to adapt to change, and perhaps even change for the better.

The classroom was empty within minutes.

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Hermione walked away from the class, animatedly chatting with Harry and Ron about their first class of the year, and how great life was in general, now that they only had a year of school left, much to the bemusement of her friends (they thought she Loved school – with a capital L).Close behind, a blonde haired shadow skulked, waiting for his chance :

"Granger" Draco called out, it seemed to him that it would be awkward to call her fist name, when he thought of her by her last name for all these years. He suddenly felt nervous on the prospect of talking to her. Would she even trust him? He did tease her mercilessly in those years when his fater, no, Lucius was alive, and it was unlikely that such scars would heal so quickly -

Hermione rounded, followed closely by Harry and Ron. "What do you want?" Hermione frowned, half-glaring at Malfoy.

"Nothing"

Draco stood in the corridor and watched them walk away.

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**A/N : If you're interested in where I got the name of the charm from, it's the Latin word 'statua' which means statue or image with 'constantia', which means constancy, firmness or solidity. A big THANKYOU to everyone who read this story, and especially to people who reviewed:o)**

**prettigurl7**

**PenScribble06**

**charlina-moreau hpfan**

**snoopy**

**and anyone who reviews after I finish writing this chapter.**

**Thanks for all your encouragement and support, and I hope you liked this chapter!**

**Evie**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I've decided from now on I'm going to write all of the A/N's at the bottom of the chapter, so that those of you who want to read it could read after you finished the chapter, and those of you who don't can just skip it. (This starts next update because I've already written stuff this time :o) )**

**Disclaimer: It was a dark and stormy night, and the author of "Keep Guessing" sat studiously in front of the computer, her fingers numb from the lack of blood circulation. While she would have loved to type that she did, indeed, own Harry Potter and all associated characters, alas, such fortune did not befall on her.**

**Now (drum roll) on with the story!**

* * *

**Keep Guessing**

**Chapter 3**

**By Metamorphis**

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Draco Malfoy was not the type known for compassion or empathy. Which was exactly why he had no idea how people like the Weasley family stooped down the level of Muggleborns. True, after the war, the Ministry had been diligent in trying to sew together the rift between the two social classes – the 'Purebloods' and the 'Muggleborns', but it would be obtuse to believe that centuries upon centuries and contempt between the majorities of the two parties could reconcile and make daisy chains together.

The very notion of it was absurd, but that did not stop the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore to take it into his (eccentric) mind to take matter into his pair of mismatched hands. Thus now Muggle Studies were a compulsory part of the school's curriculum and classes were held in the Great Hall everyday after dinner (each year had their classes on separate days, and to the relief of most students, the classes were only run once a week for each year group) and, being the eldest students, the 7th years were the first collection of lab rats to be put through the lesson.

After the tables had been magically cleared and reset with new dishes (their dirty counter-parts appeared in the kitchens where a horde of elves were attacking them with scrubbers) the 7th years, not knowing what to do as this was their first lesson, sat woodenly at their House tables. Some of the students from the other years stayed to watch, although they had the common sense to migrate towards the edges of the Hall, whispering gossip to one another. Lavender and Pavarti were gleefully exchanging beauty tips, every so often gesturing in the air as if applying some marvellous cream or lotion and punctuating their conversations with squeals and shrieks.

Hermione winced as she turned towards Harry and Ron and caught an earful of the friend's conversations. Really, she thought, does the world ever run out of beauty tips? Not that she thought Lavender or Pavarti were particularly shallow, it was just… they were so enthusiastic about the miracle creams which aren't so miraculous. Like herself for instance: she really ever wore makeup, unless for special occasions – most noticeably the Yule Ball; she didn't really want to date anyone, since most of the guy were really immature (even Harry, who is supposed to be the saviour of the wizarding community had his immature moments, like the prank on the Slytherins where everyone who stepped out of the dormitories were pelted magically with dung bombs) and she is one of the few who are not in Ravenclaw that are good at all subjects, but especially Charms. She had been particularly interested at the special charms tuition for 7th years that are going to be held every Tuesday night at the Astronomy Tower - her fist thought had been 'what an odd place to practice Charms in?'- But was unsure whether or not to attend since she knew it was very likely she was the only Gryffindor to turn up.

Ron was arguing valiantly about a particular move in Quidditch which he thinks should be banned, complaining how it was an unfair tactic that causes great injuries if done correctly to the opposition's Keeper. _Ahh, the Steinedger Feint_, Hermione thought, and then later slapping her forehead mentally, convinced that her friendship with Harry and Ron were corrupting her with Quidditch moves. Harry then pointed out this very tactic was employed many times by the Gryffindor team against the Slytherins during the Quidditch matches they had at school. Ron, still dissatisfied, consoled himself by glaring at the Slytherins, who sat across the Hall and was glaring back.

Hermione followed Ron's gaze towards the other table towards a certain Slytherin, who was leaning back on his chair (Hermione mentally tutted in her head, and imagined all the horrible ways in which the occupant of the chair could fall back and crack his skull) chatting half-hearted to a fellow Slytherin who looked a lot like Blaise Zambini from the distance. Of course, now that the war had officially ended, as declared by the Ministry, which actually meant of course the war hasn't ended rivalries between families and the such, it was rather pointless for Hermione to spy on the most notorious Slytherin in hopes of finding incriminating evidence against him.

Truth to be told, Hermione was rather peeved to think that she held a special hate for him, since it was in her nature, or as she thought, not to hate anyone – dislike maybe, but never hate. Still, she supposed that everyone could change, and last that she heard Malfoy had donated most of his family's fortune to the community, although it was rumoured that he has a separate account at Gringott's under the name of Antonio Sergeus. As if sensing someone was staring at him, Draco Malfoy took the chance in the slight pause of his conversation about the bet with Blaise to turn to look at the person who was staring at him. So imagine his surprise when he found it was 'Mudblood' Granger.

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"Good evening students, and welcome to the first compulsory Muggle Studies class of the year. For those of you who have already applied for the non-compulsory class as a NEWTs subject this year, Professor Honeyfoot has asked for me to relay to you that this additional class will further your knowledge as well as become a source where you learn all sorts of practicalities concerned with the Muggle world. I would like all students," At this Dumbledore shot eaningful glances to the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables before continuing his speech , "To put aside for a moment what quarrels you may have with each other and tolerate each other's presence for the duration of this course. What you do, outside this time alas, should hopefully be as your conscience dicates. So, without further ado, I would like to call up a group of volunteers to experience some of the basic technologies which the Muggles have so ingeniously come up with."

An hour later most of the students were happy that the first Muggle Studies class was finally over and wasn't as worse as they believed.

However, the most crushing news was that there was going to be an assessment at the end of every 4 week period to test the knowledge of the students – all of these exams will be practical, such as operating muggle appliances (Dumbledore got some strange idea into his brain that over half of the student population will oneday or another live amongst the Muggles, if only for a short period of time), to do tasks such as cooking and transport.

Many of the students who usually were not exposed to such appliances were a bit intimidated by the task of trying to operate them, and when they asked Dumbledore about it, he got the twinkle in his eye and replied: "Well, what better way to create Inter House harmony! We can utilise this opportunity to establish some firm relationships between the Houses!"

Many of the students from a Pureblood backgroung were somewhat shocked by this announcement, none more so than Draco Malfoy. Still, he supposed, this _does_ give him a valid excuse to talk to Ganger. As the last class of the day has already finished for him (he had wisely decided to drop Astronomy to catch up on some sleep), he walked out of the hall and towards the dungeons.

The many corridors that he walked through held post boards with flyers such as "Gobblestones club! No joining fee or prior experience necessary, Come join us at the Hufflepuff common rooms every week on Thursday afternoons!", "Weasley's Skiving Snackboxes :can get you out of any class, no problems! See Fred and George Weasley at THE Jokeshop in Diagon Alley." And finally, a horribly neon poster, which, much unlike its brash appearance, was a relatively normal ad for the charms tuition in the Astronomy Tower every Tuesday.

He frowned as he continued walking, trying to imagine how one would possibly practice charms on the Astronomy Tower, so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't realise he had walked into a solid mass which yelled dragged him down as they fell.

Ron and Hermione suddenly realised Harry was nowhere to be seen, when only a moment ago he had been walking along with them. They looked back at his yell and saw that Malfoy had walked into Harry. Ron was trying not stifle his laughter as he and Hermione walked back to Harry and helped him up. Malfoy looked up from his position on the floor and groaned, cursing himself for walking into Potter in the fist place and then Potter for being the clumsy oaf that he is.

The incident seemed to have little effect on Harry, who joked heartily with Ron after he got up, who genuinely appeared as if he did notcomprehend he had just walked into Malfoy. Hermione bit her lip, feeling a bit guilty as she realized no one was going to help Malfoy up.

With a sigh, she reached her hand down and Draco took it.

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**A/N: Muahahahahah! You probably thought that Malfoy was going to walk into Hermione (which was what I was going to do until I remembered a lot of fics were about how they fell in love after they walked into each other).**

**A/N: Yay! Another chapter up! 3rd in 3 or 4 days depending on when you read it. The reason why I'm updating so quickly is that these first few chapters are merely setting the scene and I really want to get to the part where more of the plot unfolds :o). Once again, thank you to everyone who read this story and those wonderful people who also chose to review: **

**Nova-Janna **

**MiKaYGiRl **

**Snoopy**

**Future updates probably won't be as frequent as it is now (I do have hw to do you know!) so bear with me and I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it!**

**Evie**

**P.S. Please review if you like the story, if you have any suggestion, or for any other reason! **

****

**Review are always welcome :o)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **

**Paperback Writer….**

**Dear sir or madam will you read my fanfic**

**It took me years to write will you take a look**

**Based on a novel by J. K. Rowling**

**And I need a job so I wanna be a fanfic writer etc.**

**(Please sing that to the tune of paperback writer by the Beatles) See A/N at the BOTTOM of this page! Thank you :o)**

* * *

**Keep Guessing**

**Chapter 4**

**By Metamorphis**

* * *

Draco was surprised, which wasn't one of his usual states of existence (he preferred to appear cool, calm and collected. A bit of arrogance in the mix too.) Who would have thought Granger would lower herself – from her point of view, that is – to help him. The idiots Potter and Weasel were still laughing and sharing their little joke, and Granger looked on vexedly at her two best friends who were howling with laughter like hyenas in the middle of the deserted corridor. She still held onto his hand, absorbed as she was glaring at her friends. Draco decided a slight cough would be the best way to remind her he still existed.

"Can I have my hand back now?" He asked worried, when she still didn't let go after his not so subtle cough. Hermione blinked, dazed as she snapped out of her trance.

"Yeah, sure" She said, dropping his hand as if it was lava. A uneasy silence flowed between them as both struggled to think of something to say so they can get out of each other's sights as soon as possible.

"Thanks" Draco decided he had enough of the staring competition and, trying to retain as much of his dignity as possible after his not so graceful fall, turned on his heel and walked off toward the Slytherin dungeons, pondering what would happen next. As much as he wanted to win the bet with Blaise – the consequences of losing would cause him to live in eternal humiliation – he really didn't want to befriend a Gryffindor, and one of the Golden Trio at that. Draco also particularly detested Weasley: not only was he friends with the Boy-Who-Lived-and-Triumphed-Yet-Again, who famously rejected his friendship in front of the entire population of their year, he also would probably be the biggest obstacle between him and his goal. Divide and conquer. Yes, that would be the tactic.

* * *

Tuesday night swooped down quickly on the 7th year students, hidden in an endless pile of homework and essays and astrology charts. Indeed, by that time, even Hermione was so tired, and it was only the second night at school, that she seriously debated with herself whether she really wanted to waste her beauty sleep on something like a charms tuition, which seemed a tad bit dubious as it was going to be held in the astronomy tower. What sort of wizard or witch would want to perform charms on the tallest tower at school? And at night? Sure, there were charms you could perform, but in a setting like that would be…absurd. She glanced down at her last piece of homework, a one-and-a-half foot essay on the uses of bouquet-garni in the _luna candidus_ potion, and the advantage of dried herbs over fresh herbs (Harry and Ron were having an argument over why dried herbs were superior to fresh: whilst Harry thought it was due to the moon's association with purity and chastity, which is reflected in the purity of the essential oils in the dried herbs, Ron pointed out that fresh herbs were much more pure, since it means that there is less of a chance that Fred and George had time to tamper with the herbs. Harry looked smug and pointed out it is impossible that a century old potion could possibly have been based on a prediction that Fred and George were the biggest troublemakers in history. Ron took the statement as an ultimatum and claimed that he will not speak to Harry for the rest of the night, unless it was to copy his essay. Harry then looked amused.). Hermione got out her tape measure and calculated the amount she had leftover to write, so far, only 5 more inches to go. Perhaps she ought to fill it in with waffle about the positioning of the moon and the superstitions concerning how herbs grew around that time. She grinned: 5 inches and 30 more minutes to go until the tuition starts. She could do that.

Meanwhile, Ron deliberately stuck his nose in the air and pretended to ignore Harry, whilst simultaneously writing on his piece of parchment. This happened to result in Ron not being able to see his parchment and writing most of his essay on the lambskin covered desk. Alas, poor Harry was choking with suppressed laughter and as a result the ink dripped out of his quill and onto Ron's arm.

"Oy! Watch it you! These are my new robes" Ron looked offended, forgetting that he had vowed not to speak to Harry, who just laughed harder and accidentally stabbed Ron's arm with the quill.

"Argh! I challenge you to a duel!" Ron grabbed the wand lying on the table and held it in what he perceived to be a threatening manner at Harry. To his surprise the wand soon turned into a fluorescent canary that was intent on pecking the freckles off his face (the new tick wands by Fred and George Weasley! Amaze your friends! Prank your professors! At only 19 Knuts each, these realistic and animated fowls will have you laughing for hours! See store for details). From the look on Ron's face he was far from amused.

Hermione finished her 5 inches in a new record time of 7 minutes, and managed to cram the parchment full of dates and facts about the most famous luna candidus potion brewed in the last millennia. Which meant she still had 23 minutes to waste until the tuition starts, well, 20 if she had to walk and not apparate. Hermione intensely disliked wasting time, as well as Draco Malfoy of course, and she decided to do something constructive in the 20 minutes she has before the tuition. Most unfortunately, Lavender and Pavarti had at that moment decided to make themselves present. For the rest of the time, Hermione was bombarded with questions about her plans concerning the Graduation Ball.

"Hermioneeeeeeeeeee, you looked so doll-ey at the Yule Ball. And your hair…" a dreamy sigh from Lavender. Despite Hermione's fervent belief that beautifying herself was a pointless waste of time, which hated above almost everything else, she was still rather flattered by Lavender's compliment. She supposed humouring Lavender and Pavarti for a while won't be _that_ bad. "so… the big question is, who are you going with this time?" Lavender and Pavarti actually looked as if they would be genuinely interested in Hermione's answer.Errrr, Hermione thought, isn't it just a bit too early to think about that? And she was amazed that Pavarti and Lavender could finish their homework fast enough to indulge in their favourite pastime like this.

"Ah… that is a … secret" If it was possible, Pavarti's eyes shown brighter than it was before at the chance of obtaining some juicy gossip.

"Secret?" Lavender breathed, looking every inch the enthusiastic gossiper.

"Um… yes?" Hermione mentally slapping herself. She should have said she wasn't going with anyone, at least Lavender trying to hook her up with someone won't be as bad as having the whole school knowing by tomorrow morning that she was going to the school Ball with her "mystery lover". God she was such an idiot.

"Actually, no. I'm ashamed that I'm not going with anyone except I didn't want to tell you I wasn't going with anyone." Hermione spoke too quickly, and flustered, grabbed her bag and ran towards the astronomy tower.

Lavender and Pavarti shared a knowing look.

"Did you believe that about her not going with anyone?"

" As if!"

* * *

For someone who was not well rehearsed in the athletics, Hermione sprinted surprisingly fast towards the Astronomy tower and leaped up the many cold stone steps which lead to the observatory deck. The rush of adrenaline, in this instance, felt good in her veins, and she sat down, slightly gasping, on the flagstone floor as she waited for the tuition to start. From her position on the floor she could see the bright moon shining, and it's reflection reaching up from the Great Lake to cup the real thing in its watery hands. She could also see a slight shadow which fell from the other side of the deck. She squinted, cursing again that her eyesight wasn't so good after she stayed up many nights using only a candle to write her essays.

The figure remained indistinguishable to her.

Draco was disturbed from his vigil near the edge of the deck by a rustle of fabric against fabric. He looked towards the spot where Hermione sat down and stared. Despite he had been told many times that staring was rude, that was mostly done by Blaise and he was determined to ignore the other Slytherin as much as possible. Not that they weren't friends or anything. The Zabini's were one of the weird ones who never fully pledged their alliance to either side in the war, thus they were seen by the Dark Lord and his followers as Ministry-supportting scum( Blaise's father worked as the head of Treasury at the Ministry) and Kisser-of-the-Dark-Lord's-feet by the ministry, since they had also accumulated much of their wealth through their not so bright and dandy associations with many of the Pure-blood families. As a result Blaise sat on the peculiar spot on the Slytherin social ladder that was neither unpopular nor well-liked. It now appeared as if Hermione was squinty unintelligeably at him. Draco had to swallow his laughter, it was truly amusing to see her squint like that. In spite of everything, he was willing to give up a memoriable moment like that to further his chances on the bet.

"Hey" Hermione nearly jumped up from her seat on the floor, surprised as she was by Malfoy's voice in the dark. She was determined to ignore him as much as possible, so that she will NOT loose her temper and start a screaming match with him.

"Of all people, I thought you were the most likely to lose your antagonism." Draco watched his words sink in. Hermione kept on ignoring him: she was getting pretty good at that lately.

"I guess not." An uncomfortable silence passed as Hermione struggled to keep what she was about to say in instead of at him. Draco was determined not to drop his conversational tone for annoyance as she continued to ignore him. Really, she must have a 10 inch impenetrable wall of steel between her and the rest of the world at the rate she's going. One would believe she had something to hide. Hermione cursed in the vilest language she knew in her head as she struggled to come up with a brilliant strategy to get out of the situation. Option A: jump of tower – she figured that was much too drastic. Option B: Talk to _him_ – reasonable. Wait, when was talking to _Malfoy_ ever reasonable? She figured that whilst her antagonism towards the blonde Slytherin would seem childish and stupid(for the lack of a better word), she really didn't want anything to associate with the London murders which occurred frequently during Voldenmort's attempted siege of the wizarding community.Whilst there were many other families who were also in the circle of Death Eaters, to her, Draco Malfoy would always be the one she would associate with _them_. Because he was the son of Lucius Malfoy, because he never showed a shred of kindness towards her in the entire 6 years at school, because despite his many claims that he was not his father, he never showed any defiance towards the policies which his father had laid down to him, and because he tried to murder Dumbledore. Hermione nonchanlantly glanced down at her watch – 7:28. Where is everyone else? Is this their idea of a joke? Getting two of the most well known enemies at the Astronomy Tower of all places and watch who gets pushed off first? And this is meant to be funny? Har har, Hermione laughed in her head sarcastically, hoping who ever was attempting to play this joke drowns in a puddle of tar. As if in defiance of her sarcasm and pessimistic thoughts, a head suddenly popped out behind the wooden door of the observatory.

"Sorry guys, the tuition is held on the First Floor now, since a lot of people complained about this rather… peculiar setting for Charms. Guess you didn't see the notice?" Hannah spoke in her irregular accent (she wanted to be an actress and as a result practiced as many accents as she could during her speeches), rather breathlessly, probably from jogging up the stairs. This did nothing to improve Hermione's temper.

I spent 7 minutes with the ferret for nothing? She fumed, great, just great.

She got up and sprinted towards the door, making sure she slammed it in Malfoy''s face.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for not updating for such a long time (over a week, I think). As I said in the last chapter, homework is flooding in and attempting to drown me in its papery grasp (yes… that made sense…….) So thanks for everyone for sticking around for this chapter, and once again, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed :o). You guys keep me wanting to write this story.**

**About this chapter, if you didn't really get why Hermione hated Draco so much, remember how he was never nice to her and insulted her fairly regularly throughout the first 6 years of Hogwarts? And also Hermione is used to holding a grudge against him(she's done it for 6 years) and it has become sort of habitual. Hope that explanation helped.**

**Anyway, the next chapter will probably be up around next week end, and at last the plot's moving along! Yay!**

**Thanks for reading and please review if you feel like it.**

**Evie.**

**P.S. Luna moon, Candidus bright, shining, white (from Latin)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: 1) I live in a cardboard box**

**2) Ms. J. K. Rowling lives in a castle**

**3) Hence this individual self titled 'Metamorphis' is not Ms. J.K. Rowling**

**And therefore, does not own any part of Harry Potter. **

**And does not own the background from which this story is derived (follows some of the plot components of 'She's All That')**

**A/N: I'm so, so, so sorry I haven't updated for ages! Thanks for those who reviewed - (full A/N at bottom)**

* * *

**Keep Guessing**

**Chapter 5**

**By Metamorphis**

* * *

By the time Hannah with the eccentric accents had led Hermione and Draco down to the First Floor, they discovered many things. Firstly, the class had already stated and everyone in the room seemed fully content hanging onto the words of the lecturer.

This of course suited Hermione, since she found the blessed silence draining her annoyance almost instantly away, Draco, however, fidgeted nervously and stared at the tutor. This was the second discovery, the tutor was none other than Dumbledore himself, which, of course, explained why the tuition was to be held in the Astronomy Tower in the first place.

Yes, Dumbledore was indeed well know for his eccentricities.

Draco nearly groaned. Now was a real life caricature of 'out of the pan and into the fire'. This is his worst nightmare in the form of a charms tuition, neatly disguised as a study group: there is no way the old fool was going to forgive him for his attempt to murder the professor.

Sure, Dumbledore knew about the attempted assassination, and used it as a ploy for Snape to clear his name within the Death Eaters, but that means he must have also known about the fact that Draco really meant to kill him. Sometimes one could be much too insightful.

"Ah Ms. Granger, Mr Malfoy, I'm glad you are able to join is today. Come in, come in, yes Ms. Granger, you don't need your copy of the "Complete Work of Charms", also better to learn by practice, that's what I say." Dumbledore got the twinkle in his eyes again, which made both Hermione and Draco edge away slightly.

The last time Dumbledore got that twinkle in his eye was during the compulsory Muggle studies, which, although wasn't considered to be terribly dangerous by most of the students, it did pose as a major health hazard on a Monday night (most of the five subject NEWT students, which make up the majority of the year's population, has a free afternoon to themselves, which they spent by lounging around the Lake and dozed off mostly), yeah, and there was also that time when he so gleefully forced the whole school to sing before dinner, but that's a story for another time.

Dumbledore wasted no time in getting Hermione and Draco started, he first taught them the wand movement ( a variation of the Tree – of – Life pattern, with an additional semi-loop added at the 5th node), then the Latin words for the charm and, with a conspiratal wink told the pair they must practice the spell on themselves first before at each other, since nothing would happen to the caster regardless of the success of the spell if they cast it on themselves.

For an old man who many unknowing strangers would considered fit for a rocking chair in an elderly home, he was surprisingly energetic, hopping here and there (as if he had suddenly turned into a gigantic robe-wearing, half-moon glasses donning bunny), quick to correct one wand movement or another and energetically demonstrating those who cannot do the charm how to add the correct flourish in the wrist movement.

After several minutes of flourishing his wand uselessly at himself, Draco was beginning to be fustrated. He glanced at Hermione, who was deeply absorbed in tracing a pattern in the air before her with her wand. Well _her_ spell seems to be working, he fumed. Gah, sometimes you just have to hate the book worm. Sucking in a deep breath:

"Granger, howdoyoudothisspellbecausethedamnthingwon'tworkwhenIdoit"

Hermione looked at Draco, before grimacing, "If you want to say something, at least speak intelligibly so others of the human race can understand you. Although, speaking human is probably beyond you." Hermione threw the last bit in for good measure, praying that she wouldn't have to converse with the blonde ferret-face. Really, he was intensely irritating, waving his wand the wrong way and definitely not concerntrating on the charm.

"Charm doesn't work, it is pointless for me to do it" Draco enunciated each word clearly, pausing briefly before delievering the next word.

"So you want help? If you want help you have to ask."

"I don't need your help! Who needs help from a mudblood know it all like you anyway?"

Death glares from around the room shot in Draco's direction, Hermione held her hands up exasperated before returning to muttering the charm and squinting in the air before her, Draco glared at Hermione, consciously aware of the glares most people in the room were shooting him.

A few minutes passed slowly, Draco was so annoyed that he felt as if he was swimming in a thick viscous liquid which slowed all of his brain's thoughts. _Gah_, he thought, _there is no way I'm going to talk to her again, bet or no bet_.

Dumbledore strolled around the room cheerfully whistling under his breath, he passed in front of Draco and gave him a small wink, before subtly indicating to Hermione, probably trying to suggest they should now practise the charms on each other, as most of the class were doing (save for Neville, who was in the tuition group solely for the reason to practice the Wingardium Leviosa charm, which nearly the entire year had become adept at since the third year.Needless to say, Neville is having some trouble in Charms). Draco seethed. Why did he even bother to come to the Charms tuition anyway? What was he thinking: a charms study group advertised with a fluoro flyer, not to mention the fact that it was going to be held in the Astronomy Tower?

Was it remotely likely that any sane professor was going to tutor 7th years on a star gazing deck? And to make himself even more ridiculous, he had no idea how this "Effusio Internus" charm worked, he decided to try his luck and ask the book worm again;

"Granger, how do you do the charm" He congratulated himself on his bluntness and the utter lack of emotion in his voice.

"Well, you must have a clear image of the tree of life pattern in your head and visualise the person who you're casting the charm on, in this case yourself –"

"Geez Granger, I didn't ask for a lecture. Just tell me how to do the damn charm."

"Fine then."

Silence.

"Well? Are you going to help me or not?"

"I thought you didn't need help."

"I don't!"

"Oooh, I sense a severe case of Malfoy's-ego-being-damaged-by-unworthy-mudblood."

"Shut up."

"Go sulk, blonde ferret."

"Buck-Toothed Mudblood"

In response Hermione smiled impishly at Draco, who, like Harry's beloved Uncle Vernon Dursley, turned an unnatural shade of beetroot. When he realised there was nothing he could do to prove his point that he **did not **need Granger's help (sure, he might need a few pointers on the charm, but that hardly counts as help, right? Right?), he scowled and moodily glared at the wall behind Hermione.

How on Earth was he going to win over Granger by the end of the year, which loomed closer at every passing down and was at last count only seven and a bit weeks away? Damn that Blaise and his affinity for getting other people stuck in difficult situations, and making stupid bets with lots of, erm….., possible embarrassment involved.

And Granger, she's even worse. There was no hope of having a decent, civilised conversation with the Mudblood, let alone forcing her into a decent set of robes and whatever else that came along in female dressing up rountines. Oh yeah don't get me started about the fashion sense, he thought sarcastically, I have more style on my little toe than the entire of her family and the Weasel King's put together. He scowled even further.

Hermione looked up from her charm and promptly burst out laughing at the dark, albeit comical emotion showing on Malfoy's face. Really it was worth standing up to a few of his insults puny, badly worded by the way(Not to mention that he has less brains than a Flobberworm) just to see him pout like a girl.

"Awwww, poor wee little Draco, did I hurt your feelings?"

"Shut your mouth Granger."

Dumbledore continued darting merrily around the room, seemingly oblivious to the conversation, although Hermione could have sworn that he occasionally looked towards the two of them and winked at Herimione.

"You shut your mouth"

"Says the one who started it first, you lousy mouthed Gryffindor."

"At least I don't pout like a girl everyone beats me in an argument."

"You are a girl."

Hermione opened her mouth, but to her surprise and fury she could think of no comeback. Damn that Malfoy and his stupidity. Gah, now it was transferring onto her. Which made her wonder, will it affect her NEWT scores?

That stupid, blonde ferret.

Dumbledore of the twinkling eyes waltzed up to Hermione and Draco, clapping his hands together most dramatically together, shocking both out of their murderous thoughts.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Malfoy! It's marvellous to see you two have mastered this charm so quickly and efficiently," Dumbledore smiled pleasantly at the pair. Hermione glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner and raised her eyebrows: three-quarters of an hour is considered quick? Draco started to panic. All of this happened in the space of two and a half seconds, "And, to help the students who are struggling along, you two are welcome to give a demonstration to show how this charm should be performed. Mr. Malfoy, you will cast the spell first on Ms. Granger, and then vice versa. I'm sure your classmates will be much more enlightened after seeing this spell being performed rather than studying the theory of it." Dumbledore, being the mysterious old man he is, disappeared in a waft of smoke (not really, but the room was getting pretty foggy with everyone's breathe – it was winter and there was a lack of heating).

"Show me how to do that spell, mudblood."

"Ask like that again and I'll break your wand and shove it up your a-"

"Tut tut Granger, not as innocent and meek as you lead us to believe."

"Don't patronise me Malfoy."

"Oh, and why not?" Damn his inspection of his nails, and the upcoming demonstation. This was a good fight, and they both knew it. After all, a good, and entertaining fight only came once every so years.

"I'm the one who knows how to the charm." I hate Granger, I hate Granger, I hate Granger, Draco repeated the soothing mantra in his head.

"No need to look constipated Malfoy, your stomach can function on its own without your feeble brain cells trying to interfere."

"Shut your mouth."

"You shut your mouth."

"No, you're the mudblood around here."

"Scrougify."

A fountain of pink coloured and rose and orange scented soap bubbles instantly welled out of Malfoy's mouth, obscuring his furious words. Instead, due to his amazing powers of innovation, he gesture rudely at Hermione, who burst out laughing yet again.

Really, Charms wasn't such a bad subject after all.

**

* * *

****A/N: As I was saying before I was interrupted by the need to put the actual chapter before my A/N, I am sincerely, most distraughtly apologetic about the inconsistency in my updates. I know I said I would update last week, but a last minute assingment got in the way. Since I didn't thank those of you who reviewed in the last chapter, A BIG thankyou:o) for sticking with me even though I don't update that often. Your reviews are greatly appreciated and inspire me to keep writing, and also to write longer chapters weeps> **

**Thank you to:**

**Nova-Janna**

**Snoopy :Cheers. lol, I took your advice and went and read some Draco/Hermione fanfics. I see what you mean, hopefully I can avoid jumping into a cliche. About planning fan fics- I'm not offended by your question. Honestly:o). When I write I just write(type actually, but still). I have a basic outline of what I'm going to write in my head and I just flesh it out and hope to make it as interesting as possible. Hope that helped and good luck on your novel!**

**MiKaYGiRl**

**The next chapter should be updated pretty soon (writing it as soon as I finish this), so hopefully the computer won't crash and it'll be up on the site. **

**Thanks for reading(As cheesy as this sounds, don't forget to review!),**

**Evie**

**P.S. Internus is the Latin equivalent of deep/inward, effusio : exhilaration, upwelling of emotion**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:**

**Metamorphis** : Draco, how do you feel about your life being portrayed as a romantic comedy, especially opposite one certain Miss Granger

**Draco:** I have no idea what you're talking about. Wait, this wasn't in any of the books! You mean me and Granger? You've gotta be kidding. (looks around) **_I WANT OUT!_**

**Metamorphis:** Now now Mr. Malfoy, no need to get upset, this isn't part of J.K.Rowling's work you see. This is merely a work based on hers and in no way belongs to the author

**Draco:** (crazed look) LET ME OUT

**Metamorphis knocks him out with an expert punch and stuffs him in the closet, with other characters.**

**(the moral of the story is that Metamorphis does not own Harry Potter ,associated characters, settings or plotlines)**

**NOTE: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME SWEAR WORDS, READ AT OWN RISK!**

**Hence, this story's rating has been changed to "T", sorry for any inconvienience this may cause.**

* * *

**Keep Guessing**

**Chapter 6**

**By Metamorphis**

* * *

They stared into each other's eyes, engrossed in thoughts about each other.

The space between them sizzled with energy only the two of them could feel, almost everyone else in the room oblivious to it, fuelled by a deep passion.

This passion was the mutual hatred of each other, of course. So imagine poor Draco's distress when he realised that antagonizing the Mudblood (sorry, Gryffindor) would do little to improve his chances of winning the bet against Blaise. However, if he suddenly turns over a new leaf – highly unlikely, since that Gryffindor wench is possibly the most infuriating female in the entire of the student population. Which says something, since Pansy did dump him, a most heinous crime in his opinion, by the way, for some equally shallow (as Pansy), Wizard Net (zero) personality. And he wasn't even good looking!

Draco comforted himself with the fact that this 'Dylan' is an empty headed twit and that even Granger was more interesting than him. Anyway, Draco mentally slaps himself, back to his line of original thought; if he does suddenly turn over a leaf, the know-it-all would immediately suspect some cunning act or another from his behalf, which means she would be on guard and he would have no hopes of sweeping her off her feet in order to gain her trust and then to stuff her into a revealing looking ball gown and put make up on her and take her to the ball and… The entire thought of going though all that made him feel sick in the stomach. Granger probably wouldn't be enticed by the prospect of looking pretty, or at least, remotely decent. She was probably the type who though wearing oversized; bulky robes that made her look like a cross between Crabbe and Goyle the fashionable thing to do. He was so doomed.

Hermione's thoughts were, most ironically, no way near as complicated as Draco's. She knew she hated him more than ever, and that was about as deep as it got, thus, as her thoughts weren't altogether that engrossing, she snapped out of her trance and looked away from Draco's eyes, blinking rapidly. The noise from the rest of the class, which she had unconsciously blocked out during her space-out period, immediately engulfed her in a wall of sound. Malfoy still seemed to be engrossed in his unintelligible thoughts, Hermione smirks inwardly. She experimented on casting the spell on herself a few more times and even though she could never tell whether or not he spell worked (the spell is supposed to show the caster the deep emotions of the victim, and since Hermione is casting it on herself, she already knows her deep emotions, spell or no spell), she believed that she was as close to getting it right as could be, without another human being to cast it on.

Which gave Hermione her great idea of the day: casting the spell on Malfoy! She cackles inwardly at this new turn of course, since Malfoy is so puny brained she seriously doubted whether he could even harbour any deep emotion, apart from anger, and she already knew that much about him. Taking a deep breath to calm her slightly shaking nerves (she's never performed this spell on another human before, after all), she concentrated her mind on penetrating the thoughts of one Draco Malfoy.

Draco brooded over the fact that he would probably never succeed in winning the bet against Blaise, as he was a conniving, sly, _evil_ Slytherin who's life's joy is to make everyone else miserable (never to the point of making the victim consider suicide though, that would be dreadfully un-classy and cliché) or scandalously humiliated (this was done preferably in front of a large number of people). And to think! He pulled probably one of his cruellest bets ever on her best-est, oldest friend Draco! Draco felt deeply cut over this betrayal (as he termed in his head. The fact that he was under no obligation to enter the bet was, of course, excluded from his line of thinking). They were bosom buddies! It was then Draco realised that he was being a drama queen, and promptly scowled.

And then found his face was frozen in that position.

Hemione snorted with laughter (_yet again_, grimaced Draco inwardly, _really, that girl should learn some manners – another bloody thing he has to teach her. Damn it_.), she hadn't realised the _Effusio Internus_ charm also had a sense of humour, and gleefully thought to herself that freezing in a permanent scowl was sure to teach him not to pull faces in the future – that is if he still could.

"Bravo! Bravo! Everybody, this is how the Effusio Internus charm should be performed!" Dumbledore gathered the other students in the room and herded them towards Hermione and Draco. The other students peered intrusively at Draco, who seemed to be trying to blush but finding he was unable to rearrange his facial features. He settled for gesturing threateningly at Hermione when Dumbledore's back was turned. Hermione replied by smiling smugly and poking her tongue out at him. Draco's blood flamed with indignation: How could IT tease him? The nerve of IT!

"Counter-charm me now", he managed to croak out (it is frightfully difficult to speak when one's vocal chords were frozen in position, "or else"

Hermione looked innocently around the room, glancing everywhere apart from Draco's face, which was now beetroot purple with rage. Really, she thought, it wasn't her fault that he had no other emotions to show other than anger and annoyance, so it isn't her fault that his face was stuck like that. If the spell was cast on her, on the other hand, she was sure she could summon up a nice expression for her face to reflect and be frozen in forever, she smirked at Malfoy's little misfortune, feeling very smug indeed.

And found she couldn't un-smirk herself.

"You little piece of shi-" Hermione felt as if her vocal cords were being painfully scraped with a set of assorted sized Stanley knives. The urge to cough was phenomenal.

"Not so cocky now Mudblood" Damn the stupid ferret seems as if he got the control of his vocal cords back, even though his face was still displaying the (hopefully) permanent scowl. No wonder he was able to mutter the spell without her hearing it. By now most of the group, including Dumbledore, were staring interestedly at the both of them, as if they were guinea pigs in some mad wizard's experiment. The Headmaster did not seem to mind the insults, so Hermione forged on, even though she could barely croak:

"Watch your mouth, blondie."

"No thanks, but you can watch mine." He then mouthed _haha_. Hermione realised that she could actually walk, which was rather relieving, and decided a sharp slap to a certain Draco Malfoy's face was in order.

The slap echoed loudly in the room. Most of the students were engrossed in the drama playing before their eyes, and therefore made no movement to stop the prequel to a fight. Dumbledore, however, being the sensible old man that he was, held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

The rest of the tuition ended rather badly for both Hermione and Draco when they were told the Effusio Internus charm would be in effect for at least another few hours.

* * *

Draco stalked back to the Slytherin dormitories, scowling to everyone who passed him. Not that he could help his facial expression. That Gryffindor (he now refused to acknowledge her by name, whether given or surname) just had to try-out the stupid charm on him. Why would anyone use that charm anyway? So that they opponents will be scared to death when they see their own reflections? Draco nearly did a Granger and snorted. He then reprimanded himself for nearly snorting by repeating to himself that Malfoys never snort.

This manta lasted him until the coldness of the dungeons crept up to him, dragging him down to the common room and through to the boy's dormitories. He sat on his bed and tried to reposition his features to no avail. The door of the dorm opened momentarily letting in the soft shimmer of candlelight that was slightly darkened by a silhouette through the doorway, before closing again leaving Draco, and the newcomer, Blaise alone in the darkened room.

"How was the tuition?" That was typical, Draco thought, Zambini never bothered with any greeting whatsoever. Which made him wonder, did Blaise ever get taught any manners? Is that why he was such an asshole and made everyone else's lives so miserable? (Draco once again ignored the fact that he was also an asshole to nearly everyone else in the school that wasn't a Slytherin). Blaise impatiently waved a hand in front of Draco's face to get his attention.

"And hello to you too." Draco scowled.

"Chill man, no need to get all bitchy over greetings." Blaise wasn't all that good at conciliation either. Draco continued to scowl.

"What are you? The anti-thesis of the sensitive guy? Determined to win everyone over by scowling at them?" Blaise peered intently at Draco's face, as if searching for an answer.

"I know I'm good looking, but stop staring at my face! I don't need you on top of most of Hogwart's female population gawking at me," Draco scowled heavily, he now figured out he had two different expressions: a normal scowl and a heavy scowl. "And do you really think I would really contort my features like this to win people over? I mean, even Pansy's smarter than that, and look who she's going out with! Dylan what's-his-face."

Draco was becoming rather the expert at scowling.

"Woah man, still stung about the split? That was ages ago!" Blaise wasn't too good at cheering people up either. Coming to think of it, he wasn't really good at anything, apart from embarrassing the hell out of people and pranking people so bad that it would cause even the Devil to blush.

"That 'ages ago' was more like 37 hours ago, twit."

"Hey no need to get touchy about it."

"Shut up."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Draco scowled at the wall opposite him, imagining, for some reason, Granger dressed like a normal person FOR ONCE IN HER LIFE. Damn it, why couldn't the bet benefit him, and not the mudblood? Sure if he wins, Blaise will be publicly humiliated in front of the entire school, but still, what was in it for him? Getting yelled at and hexed by Mudblood Granger? And if he looses… Draco didn't even want to think of the consequences.

"How's the bet coming along?"

"How do you think?" Draco was thrilled; he could fit sarcasm into his voice! The charm must be wearing off!

"You mean Granger hexed you?" At least Blaise was relatively insightful, compared with the rest of the idiots at Hogwarts.

"No shit."

"Have fun trying to give her a makeover."

"Will do."

"Sure" Draco hated sarcasm when it didn't come out of his mouth. "I hope you don't mind losing, because that's what's gonna happen." Blaise was being sincere? Is hell freezing over? Draco scowled, wondering why on Earth he was friends with Zambini. Still, he thought with a smirk to himself, it wouldn't be that bad to get lose and get revenge against Pansy would it?

Draco was so engrossed in cackling insanely in his head that he did not realise the charm had worn off.

* * *

Hermione, meanwhile, was contentedly dozing on one of the couches in the Gryffindor common room, having already completed her homework for the day. It was in that position that she could hide her smirk from everyone else, since she didn't particularly want everyone to think as if she was replaced by her evil, smirking twin or anything. Which lead her to the well worn thinking path of 'I hate and absolutely detest Draco Malfoy'. That little rat! Lying to her like that telling her he didn't know how to perform the charm and turning right back and perfoming it on her!

The nerve of him.

* * *

**A/N: Ta Da! The end of yet another chapter! I am so happy! Anyway, I'll stop using the exclamation marks now….**

**I know that this chapter might seem somewhat confused what with Draco casting a charm he didn't know and all. If you want it to be explained, please feel free to tell me so. Yeah… twiddles thumbs Oh! Thanks to the lovely people who read this fic (currently over 1300 hits only I don't know what is counted as a 'hit'), and who continue to read it. Also thanks to everyone who reviewed since the last chapter: (in no particular order)**

**PinkPixie37 – Thanks:o)**

**Blunt-Reality**

**LucieW**

**MiKaYGiRl – Yay! Someone found the soap part funny. Lol**

**Snoopy – Thanks for your review, glad you found the insults realistic. Lol. I currently read "Fallen" and "Macbeth" by cyropi, "God of the Lost", and "10 Ways to Kill Draco Malfoy". Same as you! Yay! I love that fic.**

**I'm away for this week (no comp for me :( ) so the next update will probably be around next week end.**

**Bye for now,**

**Evie**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: sorry that this chapter was so late! To make up for it, this is an especially long chapter (more A/N at bottom) - **

**Disclaimer:**

**Draco Malfoy:** Get me out of this filthy broom cupboard NOW!

**Metamorphis (from outside of cupboard):** sorry, can't do that.

**Draco Malfoy:** there's no way you're gonna get me in a story with Granger. She's a mudblood!

**Metamorphis:** No need to be rude Draco, this is perfectly painless. At least it's a romantic comedy and not some angst-y fic where everyone is tortured physically and emotionally.

**Draco Malfoy: ARGHHHHHH!**

**(Hermione awakens due to Malfoy's senseless screaming)**

**Hermione Granger:** What's going on? (Notices that she is stuck in a broom cupboard, of all places, with none other than a very angry Malfoy) Why am I stuck in a cupboard with Malfoy?

**Hermione and Draco (together): ARGHHHHHHHH!**

**Voice over artist:** This fic is based on the Harry Potter series of books by J.K.Rowling, and hence any events, persons or story lines are the property of the above-mentioned author and associates. No financial gain is made whatsoever from this humble fan fiction.

**Metamorphis:** Thank you, and without further ado, I give you, the next chapter of Keep Guessing:o)

* * *

**Keep Guessing**

**Chapter 7**

**By Metamorphis**

* * *

"Potions is an art form. Only those of you who are gifted in this area," Snape looks in the general direction of Malfoy. Most of the class noticed this not so subtle indication of favouritism and scowled; Whilst Snape's name was now cleared, the supposed 'murder' on Dumbledore dismissed as a ploy to catch the Dark Lord by the unawares, many of the students did not trust the greasy haired potions master, "Will be able to comprehend and complete the tasks to prepare you for the NEWTS examinations. Those of you who don't have the abilities however," Snape bored his pitch black eyes on Ron and Harry "Would do well to get yourselves out of this classroom."

Snape stood patiently for a few seconds, as if waiting for a certain few students to race out of the room; he was sadly disappointed however, and resumed his not so intriguing speech. It was a full quarter of an hour before anyone was allowed to take their cauldrons out. Snape flicked his wand lazily towards the blackboard and immediately a spiky script crawled across the board, with ingredients and instructions to brew a Torpeo Draught, which was a deceptively easy potion that consisted of the brewer throwing in all the ingredients at once and then sitting down to stir for around half an hour. Harry and Ron started to cut up their potions ingredients, with Harry determinedly looking everywhere apart from Snape. He had gone back to the Room of Requirement, and retrieved the 'Half-Blood Prince's potion book, copying all of the annotations onto his new textbook and concealing the additions with a disillusionment charm, although he doubted very much that Snape would be fooled by a simple charm like that. Ron was happily slicing and dicing the eye of a newt (surprisingly this wasn't a real eye, but was in fact a special type of rosehip - grown only in Romania - which bore a resemblance to a newt's eye), occasionally throwing a comment to Hermione, who was working at the same table, about the latest Quidditch match or how come she had finished cutting, slicing, dicing and scraping everything so fast.

Draco was having a hard time in potions, first thing in the morning, despite he was practically and expert in the subject. He was excessively annoyed at Blaise who had the nerve to snigger at him every now and so across the table. Draco was tempted to shove one of his boomslang skins up Blaise's nostril, and possibly cause enough facial disfigurement so that the other boy could not so much as smirk again in his entire life. And he also seriously had to start getting a move on with the bet. He has procrastinated for long enough. In spite of everything, what with Blaise being his best friend and blah blah blah he had no intention of losing this bet, not when he could publicly humiliate Pansy and Blaise in one go (he had nothing against the former though). So, with not much to lose, Draco decided to try his luck, which seemed to be all he is doing these days:

"Hey Granger"

"What?"

Draco fought to keep in the urge to correct her way of communicating. Really, she was the most unwelcoming person to talk to ever! How anyone could entertain the idea of being her friend was totally beyond him, when she could barely speak eloquently.

"Haven't talked to you for a while, how's life?" Draco desperately wanted to slap himself, although he was prevented from doing so as he was in front of a class of way to nosy students. Well, at least he's talking in terms that the mudblood would understand, despite his obviously fake curiosity for her wellbeing. Granger looked as if she was about to say 'What are you smoking?' but said instead:

"Good, how's life treating you?" And promptly simultaneously smiled very fakely and looked as if she was going to puke. Harry looked confusedly at the both of them, wondering why for the first time they were having a remotely civilised albeit artificial conversation.

"Good" The class gagged, their potions forgotten and bubbling insignificantly away, this _civil_ conversation between the two enemies were too good to miss, since the peace was around as stable as uranium and is likely to explode with insults at any moment. Lavender and Pavarti whispered to each other, giggling slightly and giving each other meaningful looks.

"That's good" Hermione found she had nothing to say to Malfoy's nicer twin, since it was obvious that anyone capable of holding a civil conversation was definitely no THE Draco Malfoy. She was never that good at continuing a conversation with her enemy's nicer twin, or at least a person with a split personality. She coughed slightly so that she didn't have to say anything.

"So…" Draco was determined to continue this conversation; despite it meant he had to forgo swearing insanely at himself for a while, as well as keeping that hideous fake smile plastered on his face.

"Yes…"

The class was absorbed fully in this not very communicative conversation, watching the words bounce to and fro as if in a tennis match. Hermione fought the insane urge to laugh her head off. Malfoy, being civil? Surely Hell has frozen over.

"10 points from Gryffindor for disrupting this class, Ms. Granger."

The whole class gasped as one for a while acting one collective unit, rather than Gryffindors and Slytherins. Immediately after that both Houses decided to wipe that incident from their memories entirely. Hermione was indignant. This 'disruption' was not her fault! If that stupid Malfoy didn't talk to her-, at this she glared at Malfoy, who looked levelly back.

"Sorry sir, Granger was provoked into conversation by myself." The whole class, this time including Hermione, gasped again. Then once again decided to wipe the incident from their memories again. Gryffindor and Slytherin reconciliation? They would snort at the idea later, as if!

Hermione was shell-shocked, flabbergasted, and for the second time of the day entirely at a loss for words.

"Fine," Snape huffed, obviously displeased, "10 points from Slytherin." This was the cause of another gasp from the class, collectively. Without words, the Houses decided between them that wiping the incident from their recollections was harder than performing a memory charm (this was practically the first time Snape ever took points from his own House of his own accord), and silently vowed to perform it on each other as soon as class ends. The silence in the room was only disturbed by the fact that a lot of the unattended cauldrons were spewing out a thick viscous fluorescent orange smoke that hovered sluggishly in the air.

The class was dismissed seconds later by a foul-mood Snape, as the classroom was filled with toxic looking gas.

* * *

"Sweet! Potions cut short!" Ron leapt a few feet in the air. Ignoring the people staring and gaping at his display of… erm…liberation. Harry laughingly gave Ron a high-five. The trio walked down to the Great Hall to get some food, as the end of Potions marked the first break of the day. Most fortunately Snape was distracted enough to forget to set any homework, which meant that they could have a small, merciful pause between the piles of homework that was being forced on them.

Lavender and Pavarti were very busy people indeed. Who else but them could finish their work on time scrape an Acceptable or Excellent in the OWLs and still have time to gossip their hearts out, Dah-ling? And today was one of their busiest days yet! They, who were the most knowledgeable on the latest going ons, were thrilled with the romance of the century! Imagine, a pair of supposed enemies, who were actually madly head-over-heels for each other since the beginning, separated by social status and Houses but finally deciding to announce their love to the whole school at the Graduation Ball!

They wasted no time in informing everyone within the confines of the school walls that Hermione and Draco were so going out with each other. After all, why the melodramatic hatred that they always acted out when anyone was around? Because they didn't want to arouse suspicion, that's why! And then there's the forced polite conversation during Potions – it was obvious they were thinking about other things rather than talking to each other, like finding an empty classroom and –

The rest of the rumour brought blushes from many cheeks. To think, a pair of star crossed lovers in Hogwarts! The thought of it was so romantic that a great deal of excitement was caused in the Gryffindor common rooms and many of the girls walked around with dreamy eyes for the rest of the day, waiting to find their Slytherin prince.

Hermione was shell-shocked yet again when she entered the Great Hall, immediately, what seemed to be a rehearsed hush fell on all the students and simultaneously over several hundred pairs of eyes turned in her direction and just stared.

And stared.

Almost simultaneously the entire hall erupted in urgent whisperings, and gestures towards her. Hermione cringed, self-consciously running her hand through her hair and her tongue over her teeth. Her hair was still normal… and as were her teeth. She nearly laughed with relief: for a moment she thought that she had beaver teeth again. Relief washed over her like a cleansing tide which swept away all her worries and anxieties. This relief, however, was miserably deceiving, for it left just as quickly as it arrived, when Hermione realised that if everyone wasn't staring at her because of her looks, then it must be something else.

Lavender bounced happily up to Hermione, and, giggling slightly to her self, entwined her arm with Hermione's and led her into the hall in a half jig. Hermione mentally slapped herself to wake from this truly terrifying nightmare. What is wrong with everyone? She fervently hoped that the person up there didn't hate her so badly to be stuck eternally in an alternate universe.

"I'm sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo happy for you Hermione," Lavender screeched happily into Hermione's ear, causing the latter to wince at her severely traumatised eardrums, "It was about time you found your one true love, and one so good looking too!" Lavender sighed happily to herself, no doubt imagining such a prince in shining armour for herself.

Hermione stopped suddenly, dragging Lavender to an undignified and abrupt halt_. Her one true love?_ This must be some joke. Lavender squealed again with excitement, pointing to a certain someone in the hall and exclaiming, "Ooh Hermione! That's so sweet! You stopped as soon as you so him, struck by Cupid's arrow!" Hermione was annoyed at Lavender and privately thought that if she didn't know who her supposed "one true love" was before Cupid started randomly shooting arrows then he must have a really bad aim. With not much to loose, or so Hermione thought, she followed Lavender's finger towards the Slytherin table.

And then towards a certain blonde Slytherin.

And met the gaze of the ferret.

This must be a really sick joke, and Hermione rapidly shook her arm loose of a concerned Lavender's.

"Hermione, are you ok? You don't look so well. No one ever told me true love was bad for my health," Lavender bit on her lip and looked divided, "Although Malfoy is mighty good looking." Lavender then sighed one of her oh-so-infuriating-Dah-ling sighs, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to break open her scalp, mash her brains in and –

A male figure hovered in the line of view of her glazed over vision, as she imagined the many deaths of Lavender. How could she? How could that infuriating gossip spread a rumour about her and MALFOY? Had she no shame? And puh-lease (using Lavender's terminology here, it was good to get to know one's enemy, as Hermione now thought of Lavender), like her and the blonde ferret? How could anyone believe as ridiculous rubbish and that? Hermione was shocked at the credibility of Lavender's claims, especially when so many of them were actually factual –

"Earth to Granger?" A hand waved in front of Hermione, and she was bought slowly down to earth by the annoying persistence of the hand.

"Could you PLEASE stop doing that?" Hermione snapped at the person, freezing as she realised that she was talking to none other than the source of all her dilemmas. Happily, she brought her hand back and delivered, for the second time in her life, a satisfactorily ringing slap to Malfoy's face. The Great Hall leaned forward in anticipation to watch the oncoming fight.

"Could you PLEASE stop doing that?" Draco mimicked angrily. Geez, it wasn't his fault that she didn't recognise him, and besides, that slap hurt! Hermione brought her arm up again, but found, to her great disappointment, that Malfoy grasped her wrist tightly and wouldn't let her move. They stood in that position for a few moments, both glaring at each other. Lavender, however, was looking terribly elated, this was first hand stuff! She was right after all!

Draco was amused when the rumour first reached his ears, from none other than his dear buddy Blaise, who was actually in awe of Draco for a moment before his started heartily thumping the other boys back. Draco now had a severely cracked spine, not to mention the beginnings of a hand shaped bruise on his face. He was definitely annoyed at Granger for slapping him. It's not as if _he_ started the rumour or anything.

Annoyed, and in need of a really hot shower to clear his thoughts, he dragged Hermione by the wrist towards one of the small alcoves at the edge of the Hall. The student collection who were previously so intent on catching every scrap of their rather private conversation, were not to be put off, and the more resourceful students of Hogwarts dragged out pairs of Fred and George's infamous inventions – the Extendable Ears (now super sound sensitive! Can listen to whisper conversations over 100 meters away!). Thus equipped, the students were able to catch snatches of conversation like thus:

"What's going on?" Hermione seethed. Several hundred ears perked up with attention – the most romantic couple in the school fighting? Surely not!

"You're asking me?" Draco began to laugh hysterically, finding himself quite unable to stop.

* * *

**A/N: I'm not even going to apologise, because it's going to sound really cheesy and no one will believe me anyway. But what I will say in regard to not updating at the timer I mentioned (which was like a week ago!) was that I had a lot of work I had to do and to catch up on. So I'm sorry if anyone was disappointed at the inconsistency of my updates. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon (I'm also not going to specify the date, but it'll hopefully be within the week). Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time (Will thank everyone collectively in the next chapter – got to motivate myself somehow!).**

**Evie.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters**

* * *

**Keep Guessing**

**Chapter 8**

**by Metamorphis**

* * *

Hermione decidedly avoided Drac- Malfoy in hopes of the rumour dispelling as people tired of the supposed star-crossed relationship. The idea of something so pathetic and outlandish as attraction between herself and Malfoy was so entirely ridiculous she could not help but to snort with annoyance at the stupidity of all her supposed friends and blush with indignation that Malfoy did nothing to discourage the rumours in the first place. Hermione nearly groaned at the looks which were sure to be on Ron and Harry's faces when then found her – seeing her walk of with Malfoy, not to mention the not to subtle rumours didn't exactly fall into her normal personality range, that's for sure, but the idea that she fell heads over heels for Malfoy BEFORE she knew about his personality doesn't exactly count as falling in love with the enemy now, does it? And what's more, Harry and Ron probably has way too much protective testosterone in their systems – Malfoy being beaten up may not be too bad, but it would mean trouble for her two best friends, and would also mean that she would be forever down in history as the pathetic little girl who needed big tough boyfriends to defend her honour. Despite the supposed romantic inclinations such protectiveness could take, Hermione was sure she would never fall in love with either of her friends, and would rather prefer it if she got to beat up Malfoy herself.

"Hermione." A voice called out to her. The person who called out, most fortunately, was Ginny and not her brother.

"Er… hi."

"Wow!" Ginny went all dreamy eyed. Hermione secretly felt sick – it was obvious what Ginny was thinking about – honestly, some girls were such suckers for a fluffy romantic story, no matter how absurd and wrong some of them are. Hermione waited Ginny to say something else, but moments passed in silence, and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Seriously_.

"Look Ginny, it's just a rumour ok? Malfoy and I were never, are not, and will never be together. And honestly, how can anyone with a brain – and you of all people! – Believe such a ridiculous piece of crap from along the grapevine; spread by Lavender and Pavarti no less! Not to mention: Hello! Me and Malfoy are enemies! ENEMIES!"

Ginny just sighed something that sounded remarkably like "true love" before wandering off, still dreamy eyed.

Hermione groaned. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

"Transfiguration is a most noble art form, from which the roots of all the other magics are based upon. It was the most ancient art that wizards from before the middle ages used …" McGonagall usually didn't bother with such flamboyant speeches at the beginning of the year unless she was really trying to impress the class with the nobility of her craft. Draco rolled his eyes, not bothering with subtlety – if McGonagall was on a rant about how fine the art was and la-la-la, then it is extremely she would notice if a 10 foot troll just strolled into the classroom for a cup of tea and several screaming humans. Likewise, He didn't even bother to disguise the smug look on his face, which Blaise, sitting on his left, and Granger, who was glaring at the back of his neck, was sure to notice. Damn it felt good to be making some progress on the bet at last, even though it would seem not all the progress had been made on his own. He nearly chuckled out loud when he found out Granger's not so graceful slip about her supposed 'secret date' that she was going with to the Ball. Blaise, it would seem, finally noticed the smug expression, and scowled faintly. 

"Looking forwards to losing, Zambini?"

"Looking forwards to strutting around naked?"

"Frankly, I would be more worried if I were you." Draco smirked, if Blaise didn't stop unconsciously feeding his already enlarged ego then he was sure his face would soon burst with glee. Blaise scowled even more.

"Seriously, you think a little controversy like that would win you the bet? Granger can't even look at you without scowling or wanting to slap you."

Draco winced: one slap from Granger and everyone will remember you as the pansy wimp who got slapped by a girl for the rest of your life. Damn, where were those invisible dung bombs you can pelt at people when you need them? Draco decided to demonstrate his superior flirting attributes to one very annoyed Blaise.

"Hey Granger." It was deceptively easy. Ganger was already glaring at the back of his neck as if there was no tomorrow, and it was easy just to turn around, and make eye contact.

Hermione felt herself blush, and nearly died of shame. Great, she fumed, even without saying anything I can firmly cement into everyone's mind that I'm in love with Malfoy. Just bloody brilliant.

"Cat got your tongue?" He gave a suggestive smirk. Hermione bit back a sharp retort, and instead stared unemotionally at the board. Certainly, she has never found a board to be so interesting before, the very texture! Meanwhile, Harry and Ron gave both Hermione and Draco very pointed stares, and Hermione suddenly felt very annoyed at the blonde ferret that was looking in her direction. She couldn't believe how Harry and Ron could actually believe that she, their probably oldest friend can fall in love with a blonde ferret look-alike, and that they didn't trust her enough to acknowledge the truth in her denials about the relationship. Her palms suddenly itched, and without really thinking about the consequences, Hermione casually reached over, and slapped Malfoy.

The slap rang out across the silent classroom. The whisperings suddenly hushed as the entire class focused on her.

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall sounded positively scandalised, and why wouldn't she? She was probably bought up in a proper English home where good little girls sang songs, laughed and made daisy chains. Draco stared at her in shock, his grey eyes wide. Hermione glared at him before he reluctantly turned back to face the front. "10 points from Gryffindor for disrupting my class! Take a drink break, and come back only when you've composed yourself."

Hermione nodded tightly and stood up. Harry, Ron, Draco and Blaise all stood up, the quartet glared at their oppositions from the other House, sending vehement looks.

McGonagall's lips thinned. " Another 10 points from Gyffindor, and 10 points from Slytherin. It's only a drink for Miss Granger, and unless you wish to loose anymore points from your Houses, then I suggest you sit down and open your Advanced Transfiguration books to page 19." The rest of the class hurriedly obeyed her orders, their attentions having been distracted earlier by Hermione's uncharacteristic violence. Many of the girls in the class looked excited – it seems as if the relationship was on rocky grounds, and Malfoy would soon be single again. Despite the goodwill towards Hermione, the other girls were positively envious of her imaginary relationship and secretly wished for their own Slytherin prince, and it would just appear that there's going to be another one soon on the market.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the really, really short chapter (yes, I am shocked and horrified myself), there's only a few days of school left and the pressure's really on to get everything finished on time. So, yeah, longer chapters should be coming soon!**

**I would like to thank:**

**Troubled Tazzy**

**HellsAngel9170**

**Spiritedwings**

**Dagworth**

**PinkPixie37**

**And last but not least:**

**Lyn**

**For reviewing and making writing this story so worthwhile.**

**Keep the reviews coming:o)**

**Evie**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **

**Hermione wandered the lonely streets. There was not a soul in sight, and the cold wind tugged at her, chilling her to her soul. Not a shred of warmth was within her, and no helping hands to invite her to a house where there was a fire. A quick turn leads her down to Knockturne Alley, where the perverted shopkeepers leered at her suggestively. It wasn't her fault she was dressed up like she was. No, it was a matter of survival, and of manipulation. Another turn, deep in her thoughts, she walked into a solid warm body, and immediately began her apologies, not daring to look up at the person. It was obvious to her that this well dressed person must be at least working indirectly for Voldemort, who, after killing Harry, had taken control of first the wizarding world, and then the entire of England. Hence, as she was now considered one of the 'Outcasts', she had no power to defend herself with and she was entirely at the mercy of anyone with blood purer than hers. The man, as she now realised, was looking down at her thoughtfully.**

**Draco had not seen anyone who was a mudblood for so long that he had almost forgotten they existed. With closer examination and a not so quick trip down the Memory Lane, he vaguely recalled that the woman standing in front of him and muttering apologies was none other than Granger. Little know-it-all Granger, who had always had her say, and had always stood up for her own opinions. It was quite sad to see her reduced to this quivering heap of apologies. Gently, he lifted her chin up with his finger, and saw her gasp with recognition. Oh well, he thought, at least I made enough of an impression (all bad, no doubt) for her to recognise me. The passion that had burned through him during Hogwarts reignited again, as if it had only been yesterday. Without a thought, he leaned down and kissed her.**

**The moral of this story is that I'm only using the characters and events from J. K. Rowling's renowned works in an effort to entertain Fanfiction readers and hence I do not claim I own anything that basically you recognise from the Harry Potter books.**

**So please don't sue me!**

* * *

**Potions**, the period after Transfiguration, and Hermione still hasn't returned from her hissy fit. Draco felt peculiarly pleased with himself and his ability to infuriate anyone, in particular the object of his 'affections', and despite the fact that, in order to win the bet, Granger will have to invest some trust in his not especially morally-guided person, this trust could be swindled indirectly, by using another student as his puppet. Despite the fact it was potions and Snape would have been extraordinarily displeased had he have let out the evil laugh which he so wanted to (by Merlin he was good at manipulating people), the urge to do so rush forth all the same.

As if on cue, Wonder Boy and Side Kick Weasley sent a glare in his direction. If looks could kill, Draco was sure he would be dead at least 9 times over. He rolled his eyes: really, those Gryffindor thickheads have way too much protective testosterone, all of which was practically directed towards their bushy headed friend. Honestly, what did they see in such a know it all? Apart from the facts she does their homework and lets them copy her test papers, that is. See, they had no understanding of Mother Nature at work: Mother Nature pretty much designed for the beautifying process of the wizarding world (can't say much for the taste of those muggles) – the more beautiful the girl, the more desirable she is and hence the more protective the male is of her.

Hence, she has a much higher chance of survival should some disaster should strike as chances are she will have an entire room full of bodyguards who will sacrifice their lives for her (does this mean Pansy has stolen his soul too and his now one of her bodyguards? This stuff is really cringe inducing) and all the other sugary cavity-inducing crap like that.

Thus, following from the same line of logic, both Potter and Weasley had no taste to speak of whatsoever (well maybe Potter and Cho, but just a little bit – and anyway, Chang cried way too much) to be protective of Granger, since she had not an ounce of beauty in her… Okay, so maybe in the fourth year ball, but then she probably had to layer on a miles thick worth of beautifying charms to look remotely decent. So it still boils down to the fact that the entirety of the Wonder Trio had no taste, and would not see beauty (or beautifying charms for that matter) if it danced naked in front of them wearing Dobby's tea cosy.

Speaking of beautifying charms, he hadn't seen Pansy for a while… Wait. Don't think about it, and especially don't think about HER. She's not in class, so it would be safe to assume she's holed up with Dylan-the-Airhead somewhere.

"What does she see in him?" he mutters to his cauldron, which was filled with nothing but water. Most unfortunately, as by now the ENTIRE of their year had heard about his supposed relationship with Hermione, almost everyone was scrutinising him and listening to his every word to judge his intentions towards Hermione. So it was no surprise then, that everyone was wondering what his words meant. Did it mean that Hermione, after only days of the discovery of her romantic liaison has cracked under the pressure of public scrutiny and has now seeked refuge in another less conspicuous relationship with party C? And then who could this new mysterious lover be?

Draco, brooding over the fact that he was dumped by Pansy of all people, was oblivious to these thoughts, behind him; Harry and Ron muttered to themselves, probably because then couldn't tell Boomslang skin from a toad. Why was it that such idiots should be allowed to live? He gritted his teeth, people like Potter, Weasley, Dylan etc. Sure, some people were lucky, like Potter, who, with no brains whatsoever, manages to outsmart Voldemort at every encounter. Who's always at the right place at the right time. However, this does not account for Weasel and Dylan who are not lucky (just look at Weasel's bank vault – zero, zilch, nada), and who aren't even remotely good looking!

And whilst Draco was playing the ever benevolent philosopher…

Harry considered throwing his silver knife with which he was shredding Boomslang skin with at Malfoy and claim it was a late onset of Muscular Spasmistic Disorder. Or not. Trust a slime bag like Malfoy to ruin everyone's day. Although, one does wonder, could it be possible that Hermione has embarked on a relationship with the ferret? He nearly laughed aloud. Surely not. But then, taking away the ridiculous elements of this hypothetical relationship (or Hermione's predicament as he now termed it), perhaps the possibility of such a match isn't so far fetched after all. In his head, he mentally drew up a list of pros and cons (a parting gift from his primary school, no doubt):

Pros:

They are both relatively good looking (Yes, even Malfoy, although sadly and disgustingly so), so hence they will have good-looking kids, which is always a positive in a relationship. Would anyone really enter a relationship knowing they will produce ugly offspring?

Malfoy is rich; so at least they will live in comfort should they choose to stay together

Wait? HE CAN THINK OF PROS FOR THE RELATIONSHIP? Hastily Harry moved onto the Cons.

Cons.

Malfoy is a slime bag

Hermione is too nice

Hermione has enough sense not to fall in love with Malfoy

Malfoy's probably just looking for cheap sex, maybe he could direct Malfoy towards a prostitute? (Okay, that was harsh)

The day they get together is when the world will end.

Harry skimmed over the list again mentally; satisfied with his conclusive proof that there is no way in the universe that Hermione and Malfoy will ever get together. Fortunately. What was unfortunate however was that Malfoy had just turned around and sent a knowing smirk in Harry's direction. Without thinking, Harry's hand went to his knife and was about to throw it into Malfoy's smug face when -

"Potter, 50 points from Gryffindor, for gesturing threateningly at a fellow student"

Ron looked at Harry, slightly put out that Harry had got to wave his knife threateningly at Malfoy before he did. Ron was especially annoyed with Snape – that deduction was utterly and completely bloody unfair – had it been Malfoy attempting to throw a knife at Harry, Snape would have simply turned a blind eye. And this wasn't because Malfoy couldn't throw to save his nuts.

Speaking of Malfoy… where on earth is Hermione? How can she disappear from Transfiguration to get a drink and then skip Potions too? Not that he blamed her, what with a bigoted Snape and Malfoy in the same classroom. He was rather surprised that he could even breathe in the bloody room. Like Harry, his mind also went to the possibility of Hermione plus Malfoy with a heart around it carved into a tree. The mere thought of it was repulsive – what would the children look like? (Half human half-ferret hybrids? The poor children) so it can't possibly be possible that Hermione was with Malfoy.

Right?

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**(Rewind back to Transfiguration period, when Hermione had just walked out)**

Hermione stalked down the hall, kicking imaginary pebbles which had Malfoy's face painted imaginarily on then around with an aberrant amount of force for a girl her size. She had no intention of getting a drink and return to Transfiguration with a sickly sweet honey coated smile on her face with the STUPID BLONDE FERRET! How dare he provoke her during one of her favourite classes (she conveniently forgot that nearly all her classes were her favourite classes) and poke fun at their none existent relationship? And to add insult to injury, her supposed friends, the-invincible-Boy-who-outwits-evil-lord and Ron actually believed the stupid rumours that ferret-boy himself probably spread around the school himself to repair his poor, bruised damaged ego after Pansy Parkinson (of all people! Hermione thought, was that the girl who looked like a pug in fourth year? Are pug look alikes suddenly considered beautiful!) And to satisfy his perverted sense of his humour. No, she's definitely not going back to Transfiguration.

Not because of the looks and whispers that were sure to erupt upon her entrance.

Not because she couldn't face the humiliation of being rejected by her friends and laughed at by her peers.

Not because she will be stuck for the rest of the hour staring at the back of her archenemy's neck.

But because she needed a plan to thwart the evil conspiracies of one Draco Malfoy.

G shelf: Get Smart – Easy Charms Incantations; Geffery Hart – The Adventures of a Charmed Life; Getsby's 47 Essential Charms; etc. etc.

Hermione cursed silently to herself. Just her luck that no one with enough foresight and conscience has written a book called "Get Revenge on Draco Malfoy" or something along those lines. And she's been through the entire library too, nothing which gave a hint as to how to avenge her deep and most utter humiliation at the hands (paws rather) of the evil conniving ferret. Fine, so she would have to be creative in order to get back at him. A check of the clock which hung with importance at the wall showed that there was another 37 minutes before she had to rejoin with the majority of Hogwart's student population, be jostled among its crowds, laughed at by most of the people in her year and…

Hermione stopped thinking for a while, and marvelled at the sense of relative calm that washed over her. No wonder Harry and Ron made her do their homework all the time! Perhaps thinking too much isn't always useful, and in truth, she had been thinking way too much these few past days, what with the supposed star-crossed love between her and Malfoy, and all related garbage, and the stupid face freezing, evil charm.

Hey.

How could Malfoy possibly have performed that _Effusio Internus _Charm when he said he apparently didn't know how to do it?

That slimy rascal.

That's it, she's going to go and skin him alive, and tan his hide to make a floor rug. But first, she needed to do a bit of research. A sly grin spread over her face.

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**A/N: I know that my apologies won't really make a difference, so to make up for it, I'm now working on a short story which is about the 5 key points in Hermione and Draco's relationship, which should be up soon. SO PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! (dodges various projectiles and watches helplessly as all bursts spontaneously into flames around my feet. And here I was thinking burning at the stake had been abolished). Thanks to anyone who bothered to stick around long enough to read this chapter, and anyone who had just discovered this story (I hope you like it!), and especially to Troubled Tazzy, who reviewed me despite the lack of updates and reminded me that sometimes writing a fanfic is just as good as reading them. **

**Thanks for keep inspiring me to write :o)**

**Evie.**

**P.S. I'm not sure if broadband is going to let me upload this, as it has been troublesome lately.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: not mine, honest!**

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**Keep Guessing**

**Chapter 10**

**by Metamorphis**

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As a rule of thumb, Blaise had only two missions in life – To prank everyone within a miles radius of him and to publicly humiliate as many people as possible. And why would this typical Slytherin boy go to such lengths for no apparent reason? To understand the true cause, one must delve into the deep psyches of the individual – and seeing the deep psyches of the above mentioned individual is should probably be left alone due to its contagious disturbingness, Blaise Zambini will probably be never understood.

Which was exactly how Hermione felt when Blaise, who she doesn't think she's ever talked to during her years at Hogwarts, threw a bunch of flowers in her lap during breakfast, in the FULL VIEW OF THE ENTIRE GREAT HALL, gave her a shy smile and walked off with a slightly embarrassed expression on his face. Hermione didn't know what to think, so she began to psychoanalyse Blaise (which, the reader should be warned, is **never** a good idea). What where Blaise's intentions when he gave her the flowers? To woo her, to make up for the many years of silence between them, to confess his deep undying love—Hermione realised how pathetically sappy she was and moved onto more realistic motives. Perhaps he was delivering the flowers on behalf of a fellow Slytherin? Unlikely, as it so happened that Blaise is known for having not too many friends. Delivering the flowers on behalf of his friends? The last time Hermione checked, Blaise's only actual friend was Malfoy. And the idea of receiving flowers from a ferret almost made her feel as if the flowers would spontaneously combust. Not sure of what to actually do with the flowers, Hermione decided to perform her charitable deed of the day, and bestow it upon her fellow Griffyndor, Lavender (who she still hasn't forgiven for starting all those STUPID rumours, still, what better way to reconcile than with a bunch of flowers?). She conveniently forgot that the bouquet was practically thrown in her lap, in the full view of everyone in the hall, which, most tragically, was to be her downfall.

"Oh Hermione, what lovely flowers!" Lavender said excitedly, with a gleam in her eye. Hermione looked around for an escape route – where are Harry and Ron when you need them? – And, finding none, she decided to go though with her charity, after all, some people need flowers more than others.

"You like the flowers?" fake smile, "so you wouldn't mind taking them would you?"

"You don't like the flowers? But Blaise gave them to you as a token of his undying love!" Lavender spewed out, her eyes widening as she realised the implication of her words.

"Hello? Earth to Lavender?"

In reply, Lavender sprinted off (not before practically ripping the flowers off Hermione –she did need evidence for her claims, you know) in search of her trusty comrade in gossip.

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Draco saw the pathetic scene where Blaise was practically oozing with fake embarrassment and tossed the bouquet onto Granger's lap. That snivelling little, slug-like git! Trying to sabotage his victory. Well, Draco thought, mentally cracking his knuckles, this means war! With that, he stormed off, with a melodramatic flourish of his cloak, to the Slytherin dungeons, where he was going to plan the perfect revenge.

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Blaise chuckled; everything was falling into place for him. Public humiliation for Draco, for whatever reason Blaise doesn't know, but it seemed like a good idea at the time, and the perfect way to ensure he lost the bet. He stalked stealthily behind Draco, watching the other boy's movements towards the dungeons, and taking out his wand, cast a direction spell on Draco.

Step. Step. Step. Draco walked through the path towards the dungeons, his mind weighed down with his responsibility to rid the world of Zambini! Ahem, to rid the world of his powers of humiliation anyway. Little did he know what he would find…

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**A/N:** woe, oh woe! Why is it that I never update? Gah! it must be all the homework that the teachers insist on piling upon us. What they don't relise is "hello! we have lives too!"

Anyway, enough of my rambling about homework (physics is evil! - yes, i should probably go knock my self out now)

**(The person known as Evie is currently in a state of unconciousness, despite the many sharp projectiles being thrown at her from annoyed fan fic readers due to her VERY incosistent updates)**

**(And from her unconcious state, she sends a telepathic message to all the readers of this humble fic out there, saying 'review if anyone is still reading this fic' and 'see you next time'. Which is aperfectly idiotic comment if you think about it, despite its figurative-ness)**

**Evie :o)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: HELLO FELLOW EARTHLINGS!** My friends keep on telling me that that phrase is SO old, but hey, I'm a slow learner. Anyways, for anyone who doesn't know what 'defenestrate' means, it means to throw out of a window.(Full A/N at bottom of this page) **THIS IS A REVISED VERSION OF CHAPTER 11. SPECIAL THANKS GOES TO TwilightGirl WHO THANKFULLY CORRECTED MY MISTAKES. :o)**

**Disclaimer: The woes of Metamorphis**

**The scene of crime was at a dank, cold, dark, and horribly cramped hole that was referred to by the crazed occupant as a 'room'. Police sirens wail in the dead of night, echoing like chilling manical laughter, floating eerily in the cold metallic night sky, as if drifting from a lunatic asylum. The police have hardened faces, and appears as if chiselled from unmoving rock as the red and blue lights alternatively reached their feeble fingers towards them. They drag a few people out of the hovel, a crazed blonde boy and a bushy haired girl. The boy screams obscenities at both the police and his companion, screaming things like "The crazy lunatic kidnapped me", taking no care of the spit flying everywhere that punctuated his words, "and shoved me and the Mudblood in a freakin' broom cupboard", whilst the girl shivered slightly, whether from anger or shock no one could tell. Suddenly, a figure walks towards the small assembly. The police turn around, their usually stony faces register a few traces of shock, before slipping under the mask again. The girl looks at her feet, struggling against her instincts to run, run away, and the boy screams, pointing at the figure "You lunatic… you…." Metamorphis looks around in mock confusion.**

"**Sorry ma'am, these are just trouble makers we found hovering around here"**

"**No trouble at all, although that boy should be taught better manners"**

"**You freakin' mudblood!" (sorry, not too many strong swearwords in a T fiction)**

**The bushy haired girl looks at her feet.**

"**Now, now Draco, be nice."**

"**Fuck off, you –"**

"**Ma'am?"**

"**It's okay, I'll take it from here."**

**CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAK! The old-style typewriter crumbles under the over-entusiastic thumpings of the wirter currently sitting in front of it. Some things are such a killjoy, she reflects….. Still, she was rather lax with Draco's speech, not to mention the whole ignoring Hermione's actions bit and making her character like a wooden doll. Still, Metamorphis reflected, it just shows that only the ACTUAL author of the Harry Potter series, namely Ms. J.K.Rowling, possesses the skill to create the characters true to life( although other fanfic writers rock!), since she does practically own the whole Harry Potter empire.**

**Gah, the melancholy in the life of a fanfiction writer!**

**The moral of the story: Metamorphis does not, most tragically, own the rights to Harry Potter, and since she makes no profit from writing fanfiction, it would be really nice if no one did sue her.**

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To any unsuspecting, typical Hogwarts student, there is a certain, romanticised myth surrounding Hermione Granger – bushy hair, buck-teeth (first impressions never wear off), with enough brains to outsmart the Devil and being rather kind and helpful in general. Of course, being romanticism, it comes as no surprise that the attributes of her supposed character only applies when dealing with specific people, and the list didn't include Draco Malfoy. Hermione imagined "kind" and "helpful" being defenestrated, and cackled insanely to herself. Thank goodness she had the rest of lunch break to complete her evil plot of world domination! Ahem, Hermione coughed discreetly to herself, triumph over ferret boy! Figuring that Harry and Ron probably wouldn't notice even if she did leave without saying anything, she left them to argue which show on Wizard Network was better, 'The Real Life', starring none other than the positively idiotic replacement of Malfoy in Pansy's life, or 'Gobstones Live!' another flamboyantly ridiculous show about a bunch of people swallowing gobstones for a living.

Hermione exited the Great Hall, ridding her rubbish with a well aimed prod with her wand (she didn't believe in making the house-elves work anymore than is necessary), accompanied by Harry and Ron's conversation, which grow exceedingly loud in volume as they both tried to indicate their preferred show, explain why they prefer it, give a brief (in fact rather long-winded) synopsis of the first 1000 or so episodes AND convince the other it was the absolute-est (Hermione wonders if the Ministry of Magic takes on Aurors who couldn't even speak with normal English grammar) best-est show on the entire planet.

Of course, Ron, who ate a significantly greater amount of lunch and hence most of his oxygen supply was been taken up by his stomach in order to digest food, was unable to think of a smart come-back when Harry remarked that there was no way 'The Real Life' could be the absolute-est best-est show on the planet, since Ron hadn't seen all the shows on planet Earth. Deciding mutually that lunch hour was probably one of the most unreasonable hours to discuss Wizard Network shows and anything at all, they heartily tucked into plate-sized pies, this being done without a single word from either party.

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Meanwhile, as Hermione walked down the corridors, doggedly in the direction of the Syltherin dungeons in order to rid the world of ferret-boy (she wondered if she will receive a Merlin First Order award for her charitable deed), the news was travelling in ripples through the Hall. There are generally three considered laws describing the travel of news:

1.The speed at which news travels is limited by the speed of sound, that is, a person who is being told the news by another takes time 't' to obtain this news and pass it onto the next person, such that the time t is equivalent or greater than the time taken from the words to travel from the mouth of the first gossiper and to the ears of the next.

2.Bad news always travels the fastest

And last but not least…

3.Gossip, despite being a form of news, does to behave according to law one. And, whilst gossip travels fast, juicy gossip travels faster.

Lavender and Pavarti, utilising their superhuman urge to spread the latest goss, considered themselves eternally grateful to the last clause regarding the speed at which news was spread, since they considered it their sacred duty to distribute gossip amongst the less enlightened as quickly as possible, in order not to starve one of the basic human conditions of existence: curiosity. As a reward to Lavender and Pavarti's efforts, by the end of the lunch period, students, teachers and even those who abhorred the practice of gossiping, were excitedly discussing the latest update on the Hermione and Draco dilemma (as the majority of the school population has now termed it): that the previously unknown third party was none other than Blaise Zabini.

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Step.

Step.

Step.

Draco's mind was happily filled with the various scenarios, all of which ended up with Blaise being hopelessly humiliated and whimpering in front of the entire school population as he made his way towards the dungeons in order to put his perfect revenge into motion. His bubble of happiness, however, was soon burst as he heard some, erm, very passionate noises being made from the direction of the dungeons. Now, Draco wasn't a prude. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that he valued his dignity (if he was a certain Blaise Zabini, for example, that mindless slug-like twerp), he would certainly be one who boasted of his exploits. His steps faltered as he drew closer and closer towards the dungeon door: it was no doubt the groans and moans were made by none other than Pansy and the ditzy Dylan. In the time of crisis, Draco somehow got it into his head that, there was NO WAY the airhead could be better than he was in bed.

Behind Draco…

Blaise cackled to himself (figuratively of course, otherwise he would have been discovered crouching in a most uncomfortably manner behind a statue of Mazork-the-Great (A most eccentric wizard who was often credited with the invention of the spherical shaped cauldron, which drastically lessened the wastage of the brewed potions which occurred frequently in the rectangular cauldrons of the day, since the liquid in the corners usually got burnt and turned slimy and crispy. However, the accuracies of the credit are unknown), from which he could just hear Draco's footsteps (there was no inconspicuous place to hide where he could also see Draco's expression, most unfortunately). He had, at last, found the perfect way to break Draco's spirit, which would surely cause him to lose will and consequently lose the bet. Using a simple direction spell, so easy to perform that even second year student could perform it (first years are too stupid, Zabini reflected), yet so undetectable, that Draco would have no way of knowing it was on him, Blaise intended to manipulate it so that it would seem to Draco only that Pansy and Dylan was going at it. Of course, should Draco actually venture towards where the sounds were coming from, he would find himself outside the girl's dorm, and out cold – although is one of the advantages of having a friend with some morals, since it was unlikely that Draco would actually walk in on his ex having sex. As such, Blaise determined it was the perfect ploy to crush Draco's spirits, and stomp on his heart (or the stone that resided where his heart should be anyway) repeatedly, enough so that he, Blaise Zabini would be able to uphold his record of never having lost a bet in the 17 hard-lived years of his life.

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Hermione peered around herself confusedly. She thought she was heading in the right direction towards the Slytherin dorms, but had got lost near a statue of Mazork-the-Great (at least she thought it was Mazork). It probably would have helped if she knew which painting hid the entrance to the dungeons, for example, but unfortunately, she had overlooked this particular detail in her haste to put her plans into motion. She looked around confusedly, and waited for someone to go in the direction of the dungeons.

Step.

Step.

A figure with blonde hair staggered towards her, his back to her. It was no doubt that the staggering (idiotic, stupid, and all other related adjectives) figure was Malfoy, with a barely concealed shriek of surprise and a barely contained snort of laughter (at the hilarity of the fact that Ferret looked as if he was going to have a coronary), Hermione leapt behind the statue of Mazork-the-Great, found herself land on something warm, and looked down at the face of none other than Blaise Zabini.

Oops. Hermione thought, as she desperately fought to keep her blush from rising.

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**A/N: Thank you, dear reviewers! **

**Jevanminx – Good guess, it is based on the film 'She's all that'. And here's the new chappie!**

**BloodyHELLitsHP – sorry, another cliffy**

**Troubled Tazzy – thanks for the encouragement :o) Hope you like this chapter!**

**Virginia – lol. Here's the chapter.**

**TwilightGirl – thanks for the correction – someone (in a previous fic, I think) told me it was 'Zambini' so I've been typing that since (don't have any copies of HP on me :( ) :o)**

**The next chapter should be up around next Sunday, but the date isn't definite 'cos I don't know how much school work I have to fit in between writing next week. So yeah, see ya (until next time)**

**Evie**


	12. Chapter 12

**Yes,** **You're completely correct! Metamorphis (a.k.a. Evie) is lazy like no one else! The last time I heard, she went more than 6 months without updating! Oh! What horror, what woe is this!**

**But, in order to express my most sincere apologies (Yes, I also have no concept of time), here's the new chapter!**

**So yeah, I'll just stop waffling now (hides in a corner and cries)**

**DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter series and all associated characters/ settings etc. But since she still hasn't published the next novel (honestly, if she was a fanfiction writer, her updates are even more spread out than mine:oP), I'm amusing myself by trying to get two unlikely characters in a relationship.**

**So there! Can't sue me now, can you? (and no, you're not allowed to try!)**

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**Keep Guessing**

**Chapter Twelve **

by Metamorphis

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There are many situations in a person's life when all one wants is for the floor to open up and swallow them whole, or crawl into a dark hole and hide there for the rest of eternity, or possibly a combination of both. Hermione had long thought that she had her fair share a ridicule over the first few years of her days at Hogwarts (she did have horribly untameable hair, not to mention the buck teeth that her parents had insisted her live with), and that by the laws of karma, her next dose of embarrassment wasn't due for the next eon or so. But, Fate obviously had other plans, or a very, very wicked sense of humour. Hermione tried to scamper quickly but quietly off Blaise, shuffling on her knees in an attempt to do so. 

At this point, it is necessary to throw in a few words on Mazork, who is currently acting as a cover for the rather embarrassed teenagers crouching behind him. Firstly, Mazork – the – Great, was a goblin who first established equal rights for goblins in the wizarding community, and his skills in negotiations was expressed in a solid marble scroll perched on one of his outstretched hands. The second, and perhaps more important thing about Mazork was that he was remarkably short – even for a goblin. Perhaps it was Mazork's vengeance on the world at his distress of the fact that he had been also one of the shortest goblins in wizard kind (Hermione had always thought Marzok's title was compensating for something), that caused Hermione to bump into the scroll in the statues hand as she tried to sneak away. This, of course, due to her atrocious ability to attract ridicule, embarrassment and the like, cause a resounding SMACK! That she doubted even the staggering idiot ferret wouldn't notice.

Draco turned his head towards Mazork-the-Great, where he thought he heard a sound and a slight scuffle. Was that part of a bushy head sticking out?? Draco walked towards the statue, almost feeling the hushed breathing behind the statue. Hah! So there was someone behind the statue! He peered around Mazork, only to find Blaise and Granger crouched in a rather… compromising position.

Great, first he has to find Pansy and Dylan making out on her bed, and now this! The world is going to the dog! Mayhem and insanity! There is no way Granger could fall for Blaise's non-existent charms when he has spent practically the last few days trying to get her attention… this is blasphemy! This will be war!!

And so Draco fumed, nearly missing Hermione's subtle exit (when she finally was able to untangle herself from Blaise after her virtually concussion- causing impact onto Mazork's scroll – maybe karma's cursing her for all her evil commentary on the significant figures of wizarding history?). It was rather odd that he should have so much bad luck in one day, because the last time he checked, he hasn't cursed anyone for a week (only to win the buck-toothed wench's unwavering admiration – no luck on that one yet), nor had he deliberately insulted anyone from Gryffindor. At this point, he deliberately ignored the fact that he performed the full-body bind on Neville not an hour before, and had, as usual, made another jibe about the Weasley's lack of wealth. After all, it's not his fault that the stupid people can't grow a backbone. Really, it was rather tiring having to train the idiotic Gryffindor's into at least responding to his (perfectly justified, so he thinks to himself) provocations. At least Granger can be a spitfire when he calls her Mudblood.

He turned to speak to her, only to be met with a view of her backside.

Not bad… have to get rid of those hideously volumous robes that she insists on wearing though.

Legs? Not entirely unusable as working material – not long, but could possibly be shapely? Darn those horrid robes of hers.

And that hair. Draco almost moaned in disgust. That hair would be traumatising to work with. He almost pitied her hairdresser, although (he ran an eye across those afore-mentioned bushy tresses) judging by that hair, she obviously never met one. Maybe Granger and Bulstrode shared hair-tips together?

He tried to conjure a mental image of an image of Granger's face.

Rosy lips? Might need a lot a gloss to cover that one.

Eyes. Brown, unremarkable. He had heard her eyes often discussed in terms of chocolate, by those dorks that she normally sat with, but he suspected that it was a nice way of saying: "Your eyes look like mud. Unremarkable, boring, mud-coloured mud. The variety that you find in bogs and swamps. You know that colour? Well your eyes are that colour, so deal with it."

Her possibly only redeeming feature was her nose – petite, with just a bit of pertness at the tip that could be used to suggest strong-mindedness.

Overall, however, despite however beautiful her nose might be, Hermione Granger looked like one hopeless candidate for the Prom Queen. He almost wished that his pet project would be Hannah. And he couldn't even tolerate her or her eccentric tendencies to mimic the speech of all the supposed multi-national figures in wizarding history.

Draco was soon drawn out of his musing by Blaise's not so subtle sneaking away.

"You!" Blaise almost felt the venom in Draco's words burning figurative wounds in his body. Corpse actually, because if looks could kill, Blaise would be dead ten-times over already.

"Me?" Blaise sputtered indignantly. Really, the audacity of "Drakey-poo" to suggest such a thing!

"You're deliberately ruining my chances of winning the bet! You want to see me walk around naked!" Draco mentally slapped himself for his self-induced image of Blaise drooling at him as he walked around naked.

"Of course I'm ruining your chances. After all, I don't want to walk around naked" Blaise remarked casually.

"Must you always embarrass the pants off everything that moves?" Draco imitated Lavender's high screech. Not. A. Good. Idea. He swore he could hear his vocal cords protesting and thumping their outrage on his throat.

"Mais oui! Bien sur, ma petite cherie! C'est la passion de ma vie!" Blaise screeched back in a high false soprano, each mispronounced syllable beating a hole in Draco's eardrum.

"I pray for your children." Leaving that particular impasse hanging in the air, Draco made his way to his next class, mentally reminding himself never to provoke Blaise into speaking in such a voice ever again. He shuddered with disgust as he erased the image of a Blaise dancing in pink fishnets from his thoroughly disturbed mind.

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Herbology. Possibly one of the most tamest subjects at Hogwarts (Apart from History of Magic, where nothing more interesting than the possibility of ear-wax in Gunodon-the-Ugly's ear is ever discussed), and it is also coincidently the only subject where Neville's presence causes anything but humiliation for himself. In typical Herbology spirit, Professor Sprout bought out pairs of fluffy pink earmuffs and grossly disfigured dragon-hide gloves for everyone in the class. Fortunately, Slytherin was not sharing the greenhouse in that period with Gryffindor, which gave Draco some time to catalogue his thoughts of how on earth he was ever going to go within a ten metre radius of the buck-toothed book-worm. 

Sure, he didn't particularly care if he got cursed, slapped or yelled at by her, because that is half the fun of the chase after all. What he couldn't stand was if her two protective bodyguards started breathing down his neck. Disgusting. Not an iota of taste between those two dunder-heads: if they had any sense at all, they'd be flocking around someone who can actually be considered as a decent example of the female species. Although, Draco had a slight feeling that the-Boy-Who-Always-Lives and Weasel-Troll never really saw what Granger looked like anyway, since she's always surrounded by a pile of books. It was surprising, to Draco's materialistic mind, that Granger managed to snag Krum in fourth year, and even managed to find a dress under her piles of books.

So if he can't win Granger by his charm, what can he woo her by? She doesn't seem particularly like the type who would swoon over mushy, diabetes-inducing poetry. She definitely wouldn't be impressed with his offer at showing her his prowess in the more, um… physical side of relationships. And throw in that rumour that caused her to blow several fuses.

There is no way he's going to live through this one.

Whilst Malfoy was soul-searching in his Mandrake-root surroundings, Hermione was struggling to keep her eyes in History of Magic. She had no idea why she was actually in the subject, apart from a vague memory that Aurors are supposed to have at least a basic understanding of past magical conflicts so they can strategise on the battlefield. Or something like that. In her opinion, it was so that all Aurors can brainwash themselves by having drink-fountain conversations about the legitimacy of the claim that Gunodon-the-Ugly had ear wax. In the event that this is possibly to be discussed in her future, chosen career, Hermione was already well versed in both sides of the argument. Namely, no one bloody cares if the Hideous wizard had earwax or not.

Not that Hermione thought that Dumbledore was loony or anything. It's just that, whenever Dumbledore decided to take matters into his mismatched hands, he has a rather, _unique_, approach to things. Making seventh years learn the intricacies of Muggle appliances is one thing, but learning about troll bogies for SEVEN YEARS AT HOGWARTS is excruciating torture in itself. Needless to say, Hermione was not her usual attentive self in History of Magic. Presumably because there was nothing to be attentive about. Instead, she was internally summing up all that had happened since the start of the year that caused her to be stuck into the sticky position of being Malfoy's supposed soul mate.

Bloody Brilliant (as Ron would say). She can't even walk around with people pointing at her. She felt sorry for Harry. He had been treated like this ever since he was introduced into the wizarding world. Like an animal at a zoo or an intrigue at a freak show. Hermione made a mental note to start a "S.P.A.F." (Society to promote animal freedom) club, and save all the cuddly crocodiles and serpents from suffering such undue trauma!

Okay. So she started the year. Had the supplementary Muggle Studies class. Went to the additional charms tuition where she got her face stuck in a smirk. Oh year, Drac – Malfoy also walked into Harry, and she stole his hand. And the entire school thought that was foundations for a romantic relationship?

Puh-lease.

Even Pavarti or Lavender wouldn't believe that. Right? RIGHT?

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**A/N: I think that if anyone is reading this, you should really thank Troubled Tazzy for reminding me (again) that I should continue this fic.**

**I just read it over again, and found that I actually enjoyed it. I guess it's because I haven't read or worked on it for such a long time. So cheers, to anyone who's still reading this, and I hope the next chapter will be up soon.**

**Evie**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N is at the bottom of this page, where it is unobtrusive to your reading pleasure!**

**Disclaimer: Yep, definitely not mine.**

* * *

**Keep Guessing**

**Chapter 5**

by Metamorphis

* * *

Harry had a splitting headache, of the variety that went beyond a cure that simply involve clutching your head, wishing it would split open and hence end your torture sooner, and howling in agony. Oh no, this was much, much worse. It was of the type that made Voldemort's most terrific Cruciatus curse seem like a pleasant stroll in the meadows. It was of the pedigree that made making friends with the ferret-boy-aka-Malfoy since like a nice and dandy tea party. Of course, the fact that the resident vampire bat impersonator was hovering over him and throwing looks of disgust and snide comments at him didn't exactly remedy his dilemma. Not to mention Hannah Abbot kept on looking at him from the corner of her eye. 

The pewter cauldron that held Harry's cauldron gave a hiss in protest as Harry dumped the in contents of an entire vial of Murtlap essence, to enhance the 'boil-alleviating" power of the basic _Heal-All Potion_ (believed to have been first brewed by the great Egyptian wizards after a night of insane partying and drinking way too much _zythus_ than is healthy for your average ancient Egyptian wizard). Harry sincerely doubted that his potion would heal anything, judging by its sickening vomit-colour and its paste-like consistency. He probably shouldn't have thrown in the vial of the Murtlap essence as well as the tincture itself, but that probably wouldn't have saved his brew.

_Ooh! Look! There are thick fumes coming off the cauldron!_

The more rational part of Harry's brain (at least, the part that wasn't currently being fried by his tremendous headache) was screaming at him to take the cauldron off the heat before he gases everyone to death. The other part, giddy with the migraine-induced delirium, giggled in pleasure as the narcotic fumes rose and filled his lungs.

"Mr. Potter" Snape's menacing shadow quivered as the potions master shook in rage, "I trust it is not beyond your mental capabilities, as petite as they are, to extinguish the fire beneath your cauldron before you suffocate the entire class with your hideous concoction?"

Harry blearily raised his eyes to look at Snape. It was rather difficult to uncross his eyes, because they seemed perfectly happy to not cooperate with his brain signals. It was also rather straining to focus his eyes too, because, through the fog rising from his cauldron, it looked as if Professor Snape was the proud model of a pink, feathered-hat. Despite the pain thudding in his cranium, Harry giggled.

The boy-who-lived (and possibly won't be living much longer if Snape had any say in things) _giggled_ at Professor Snape.

Snape twitched and mentally cursed all the idiots up there that put the abnormally-stupid-but-incredibly-lucky-boy-protector-of-the-wizarding-community in his NEWT potions class. He thought that he was rid of, for good, the at least a few of the idiot Gryffindors who couldn't tell a bezoar from boomslang; or at least, the idiots who insist on producing toxic fumes during Potions and still hoping to scrape through. Hopping mad, that's what they are, and the epitome of stupidity and all that's wrong with young wizards, besides. But no, Potter and even the second youngest Weasley managed to scrape through the OWLs, although Snape had no doubts that those precious few marks which could have ruined the dunderheads hopes of ever darkening the doorway of the NEWTs Potions class are none other than the work of one Miss Granger. Who seems to have become the resident Miss Popularity, despite her very conspicuous lack of interest in anything that isn't written down on parchment and stocked in Hogwart's extensive library.

Harry giggled again, and it was this disturbing sound that caused Snape to fire off an almost reflexive Flame-Freeze charm (honed by 5 years of dealing with the completely hopeless Longbottom) at Potter's cauldron. Which decided that the present was a very good moment for it to self combust – which it did, quiet happy, Snape was sure, that it had been finally been relieved of its service to Potter.

Harry winced as the remains of his cauldron, as well as what appeared to be baked on vomit that had previously resided in his cauldron hit him as his cauldron burst into flames and shattered under the heat. Harry decided that he did not look very well in Seamus Finnigan's burnt-off eyebrows look that the Gryffindor had perfected in the first year, and pouted in his seat.

Hermione's hand waved insistently in Professor's Snape. Surprisingly though, this time Snape did not pretend not to see it:

"Yes Miss Granger, you may take Potter to the Infirmary", and with a sweep of his black robes, Hermione and Harry were dismissed from Snape's potions class. Lavender whispered conspiritally to Pavarti and giggled uncontrollably. Snape's foul mood multiplied ten-fold when he realized that, as soon as he got rid of one giggling Griffyndor, he gained two others.

As Hermione half-dragged, half-carried Harry to the Infirmary, she reflected that Lavender's giggles and the outraged speculations about other people's relationship (in which she had no business to stick her nose it, no matter how well it was formed) that undoubtedly accompanied them, were getting really tired really fast. No doubt, on Hermione's earlier years in Hogwarts, she had giggled with the best of the gossipers on rare occasions (gossip is rather a good way of finding out information after all), she found that rumours about her weren't that interesting to her to begin with. Mainly because she should know if she was simultaneously having a relationship with three seventeen year olds, and according to the rumour mill, at least sleeping with two of them. Perhaps Hermione feeling worn out by her first few weeks back at Hogwarts wasn't exactly helped by the piles of homework and assignments that the professors insisted shoving into their arms, swearing black and blue that yes, both Mazork and Gunodon will both be covered in all the exams (because of course Professor Snape will set exam questions about bogeys and short goblins). It also didn't help that she was dragging along a tall, and rather muscled seventeen year-old up the flight of steps that led up to the Infirmary. In any case, Hermione fumed, after all this _insignificance_ blows over, she was going to find a nice quiet spot in the Library where no one will disturb her, and study till her brains implode.

Harry groaned, his feet dragged along and hit every step on the way to the Infirmary. Mentally, he cursed the fact that Hermione, despite being the brilliant witch that she is, always forgets at _convenient_ moments (such as in the first year, when she thought that she needed wood or something to light a fire under the Devil's Snare) that there usually happens to be better, easier and magical ways of doing things. And even he can manage a _Wingardium Leviosa_ charm! He almost sighed in relief as he heard the rapid staccato of Madam Pomfrey's shoes on the marble floor (despite the fact that this sound also did nothing to alleviate the dull thud-thud of his head). And was soon levitated where his feet finally managed to get some reprieve from the uncompromising marble steps. He could practically hear Hermione skip off as soon as she was relieved, presumably in the direction of the Library.

* * *

**At the same time as Harry's Potions class…**

* * *

It was still Herbology, and Draco swore that if the stupid Mandrake root was going to shriek one more time, he was going to decapitate it, no matter how cute everyone claimed it was. Loony, the whole bunch of them. Mandrake roots and cute are not supposed to be used in the same sentence. It's a bloody oxymoron for Merlin's sake! 

Speaking of oxymorons, what on earth were a Gryffindor and Slytherin, in particular, Granger and Blaise doing together? Well, Blaise obviously to make Draco lose the bet (Draco refused to think about the possibility of Zabini wanting to see him naked. That's just wrong. It's wrong even for the perverted bastard.) But goody two shoes Granger? What the hell was she thinking shacking up with a Slytherin? Wasn't she _embarrassed_ about the rumours of her and her Slytherin prince? Well, Granger can't like Blaise, because that's as inconceivable as chalk and cheese being eaten at the same time. Still, Draco brooded gloomily, it's not as if Granger would like him any better, since they hadn't exactly been on peachy terms with each other – since forever. It didn't occur to Draco that perhaps it wasn't a good idea to antagonize the girl that you want to go out with you and that it wasn't a good idea to only acknowledge her by her last name, or vaguely rude that you make up yourself either.

But, since the year is progressing faster than a boulder rolling down a steep hill, Draco had come to the very useful conclusion that he had better get a move on, or his ass will be kicked and trampled upon. And that can never look good in his last year in Hogwarts, nor in potentially all his references from the professors at the afore-mentioned institution.

As a youngster, Draco had been brought up, taught that money was one of the greater influences in society, and that there is no power cannot be swayed by it. He sincerely hoped that love (okay, maybe not), acceptance, or consent to go within ten foot of a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor could be obtained by his not-too-puny 'pension', left over from when he donated most of his family wealth to the community to amend his father's crimes.

It appeared that Draco Malfoy would be having a very pressing engagement after Herbology this afternoon.

* * *

**A/N: I know this is a very short chapter, but it wouldn't have made very much sense if I continued it onto the next scene. But, stay tuned! The next chapter will herald the blossoming of a new romace, and the rekindling of many others readers stare away from screen, pretending they aren't reading the story... oops, I think I was supposed to promote my story, but oh well **

**And, many thanks to the lovely reviewers who left comments/corrections/constructive criticisms, THANK YOU! You rock! And make me want to keep typing despite the computer keeps deleting my A/Ns!**

**Cheers to:(in no particular order)**

**cam-is-hot**

**MistyDeath**

**librastar**

**Troubled Tazzy**

**Kae-Lae**

**katiemarie x3**

**and last but not least, I LUv JeSse McCaRtNey - (hope I didn't type that wrong ... )**

**Until next time.. unless everyone decides to clobber me to death due to my crap A/Ns and short chapters,**

**Evie**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: A LOOONNNGGG chapter this time round as an early Christmas present! See full A/N at bottom of the page. **

**Disclaimer**: You must be delusional if you think I'm J.K. Rowling. But hey, thanks for the confidence booster!

* * *

**Keep Guessing **

**Chapter 14 **

By Metamorphis

* * *

Morning dawned in its usual manner over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For those students who are sound asleep, the sunlight provided a rude wakeup call that was perhaps made worse by the fact that the curtains in the dormitories were charmed to turn transparent at the first light of dawn to rouse the unwilling to wake occupants. As such, Harry cursed and almost tripped over his broom (which he had _conveniently_ placed on the floor to save himself the trouble of cleaning up) when he tumbled out of his bed without glasses. 

When he finally managed to find the hiding place of the optical device, he cursed again when he realized it was almost Monday yet again. In this situation, he felt the capital "M" in front of the noun was perfectly justified. Not that he had anything personal against Mondays. Oh no, Mondays are perfectly dandy days to start a peachy week of fun-filled education and learning. This fact, however, was doused due to the dreaded compulsory Muggle Studies class on Monday evenings. At least today was still Sunday, he thought mournfully to himself.

Harry had thought he was rid of Muggle Studies when he fell on the more exam-filled side of sixth year, only to be rehaunted by the subject in a way that was more horrible than the way Professor Binns insists on teaching History of Magic.

Nonetheless, it became fairly obvious to Harry, Hermione and a whole host of other Muggle-born or Muggle bought up students that they would have little or no difficulty with the subject. Which would make the subject totally tolerable – until they realized in horror what other plans Dumbledore (of the twinkling eye) may have for them.

Brushing these thoughts of peril and an almost certain doom (Harry thought it would be rather ironic he died not because of his duel with Voldemort but rather at the jaws of a lawn mower powered by … Ronald Weasley, for example), and resolving to spend the rest of Sunday ignoring the fact that Monday was soon following, Harry roughly ran a hand through his hair, and glared half-resignedly at the his reflection in the mirror. It wasn't his fault he was cursed with his father's hair, but it certainly didn't help when he had to attend any formal events with a hair like a supremely battered broom head.

Still, Harry made an effort to sort of smooth his unruly hair, more out of habit and wishful thinking than anything else, before wiping his glasses on his robes and turning to look at his friend, Ron.

Ron was, typically, asleep despite the audacity of the transparent curtains. Harry nearly jumped a full step back when Ron's arm, as if possessed by a life of its own, reached out beneath the covers and the knitted jumpers that covered Ron's bed. Harry stifled a laugh as he spotted one of Hermione's misshaped, magically knitted hats on Ron's bed. Great, now no one will ever tidy the junk on Ron's bed. Harry wondered if Ron would one-day fall asleep in his pile of memorabilia and simply fail to find his way out of the pile. Harry had to stifle yet another laugh at the mental image of Ron calling for help, trapped between his Chudly Cannons cloak and a stack of Hermione's elf hats and socks (although the two are mostly indistinguishable from each other).

"Ron, I think I smell pancakes." Harry's attempt at provoking Ron into a semi-sentient state earned him nothing other than a grunt towards his general direction and, to Harry's dismay; the rest of Ron's bright red hair was swallowed by the bright orange Chudly Cannon's cloak. With a nonchalant shrug, Harry resigned to walk by himself to the Great Hall. After all, it was fairly obvious that Ron would get up before ten, due the additional Astronomy class they had until midnight the day before, and Hermione, well, no one really knew where Hermione was, because she had disappeared after Astronomy with a reassuring smile at Ron and himself.

Harry's walk to the Great Hall was nothing out of the ordinary – the rest of the Griffyndor seventh years were still bleary eyed and crowding in the Common Room, reluctant to move to the Hall after the thoroughly tiring Astronomy Class (during the weekend of all days!) the previous night. Harry suspected that if the Sorting Hat did have its way and sort him into Slytherin, his fellow Housemates would be looking very much like the tired and bleary-eyed Griffydors. His only consolation was that although he wouldn't have anyone to talk to apart from maybe Ginny, at least for once there would be little or no Slytherins glaring at his back during breakfast.

When he got to the Hall (which took slightly longer than usual because there was no Ron herding him along with complaints like "Hurry up mate, I'm starving! I'll be malnourished by the rate you're moving), Harry sat at the Griffyndor table opposite Ginny, who sent a smile in his way.

"Good morning Harry, you look like crap" Harry mentally grinned and rolled his eyes at the same time – Ginny was not known for being particularly tactful. This was, of course, demonstrated to its full extent during the year in which Harry received the poem bellowed by a bunch of flowers about his eyes, green like "pickled toads".

"Why thank you, dear mademoiselle, your descriptions are ever so poetic." Harry tried a pompous accent, earning a peal of laughter from Ginny.

"But seriously, not meaning to be rude or anything, but you need to be in perfect health for our first Quidditch game against Hufflepuff."

"I'm fine, just dead tired from Astronomy yesterday, or, I should say, this morning." Ginny clucked in sympathy, then said playfully:

"Excellent sir! Was rather worried about you attempting another Wronski feint looking like a re-animated corpse."

Harry decided not to dignify Ginny's comment with an answer, merely reaching for a bread-roll and throwing it at Ginny's head. She laughed and retaliated by blowing a raspberry at Harry. She stopped that though, when she realized that Hannah Abbott, voted by the official Fourth-Floor Girls Toilet Pole as the fourth hottest girl in the school, was standing behind Harry and looking as if she was about to say something.

Hannah Abbott, Hufflepuff. Not particularly intelligent, although, on the upside, she _was_ the fourth best-looking girl in the school. In her own opinion, being good-looking balanced out some of her deficiencies in the intelligence quota, although she was secretly (and would take this fact to the grave) jealous of Hermione whenever she managed to answer a question that she did not even begin to comprehend. She overcame this though, by becoming one of the most ambitious students at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

What she lacks in 'bookish' intelligence, she certainly makes up for in her acting abilities. In fact, in her normal everyday speech, she's pretty sure she imitates on average, at least seven different major accents perfectly. And right now, it was her acting ability that prevented her from shaking like a leaf and wishing the ground would swallow her when she stood behind Harry, and desperately, desperately wishing that everything would turn out all right.

At Ginny's gesture to something behind him, Harry turned around, and to his great bepuzzlement, saw Hannah standing behind him. He doesn't think that they've spoken more than ten words outside of class in the entire six nearly seven years that they've been at Hogwarts. Still, no time like the present…

"Hi Harry." Hannah said in something that sounded a bit like a French accent, immediately, she fought down her blush and tried to speak in a normal plain English.

"Good morning Hannah." Harry had no idea what he was supposed to say. It seemed that inter-House unity was a lot easier being said by Dumbledore than actually being put into practice.

"Wouldyougooutwithmeiknowwe'vebarelyspokenbutIreallylikeyouandifyoucouldjustgivethisachanceI'dreallyappreciateit" Okay, so maybe her trying to speak with an English accent was making her even more nervous. Hannah tried to push down her mortification (and blush) and decided that Harry probably wouldn't care about her accent, anyway.

"Sorry, I didn't really catch that" Harry was confused. He sort of lost track of the speech after the first five or so fused syllables.

"Would you go out with me?" Hannah was sure to enunciate (like her drama teacher told her to) and was pleasantly surprised by her mellifluous sentence and Harry's faint pink cheeks. "I'll leave you to think on it"

As Hannah walked away towards the huddle of Hufflepuffs at the other end of the Hall, she mentally high-fived herself because she had finally managed to ask Harry out and even managed to make a dignified exit. Her excitement could be quashed by nothing, not even the withering gaze that Ginny was sending her from the Griffyndor table.

Harry turned back to his bacon, rather stunned at the early admittance of sentiment that he had just received from Hannah. He saw that Ginny was looking at him, and laughed embarrassedly.

"Well, that was a surprise" Harry tried to dismiss it by sounding nonchalant; too bad his blush wasn't cooperating.

"Ooh, ickle-Harry has a girlfriend!" Ginny teased, although she felt like hitting something.

"What?! I didn't say yes! Oh no! What if she got the wrong idea because I didn't say anything, I don't want to go out with her!" Harry blinked. His mouth blurted that out even though he wasn't even thinking about whether or not he was going to go out with Hannah or not. As a matter of fact, his mind (so he believed) was engaged in the very difficult task of deciding whether he wanted maple syrup or berry sauce on his pancakes.

"Good," Colin Creevey butted in. Harry blinked again, he was quite sure Colin had not been sitting there a moment ago, "My sources tell me she asked you out as a career move."

Harry spat out his mouthful of pumpkin juice. Ginny wrinkled her nose at his uncouth behavior (although you'd think she got used to such things, living with seven brothers!) and Colin continued excitedly, "Well, think about it: Hannah wants to be famous, and you're the most famous guy in the school Harry! Every time you go out, the press would be itching to take photos of you, and, consequently, Hannah!"

A small frown crossed Ginny's face as she thought it over. Could that be possible? Would Hannah really do that? It does sound more Slytherin than Hufflepuff though. Harry felt vaguely sick at Colin's accusation; suddenly, neither maple syrup nor berry sauce sounded very appetizing. And, it was at his state of dejectedness when Hermione walked in onto the scene.

Ginny immediately brightened and pelted questions to Hermione about the latest developments in the Hermione-Draco-Blaise love triangle, despite Hermione's firm insistence that there was, in fact no love triangle, and that the people who believed in such vile gossip must have triangular brains (the only animal in existence that has a triangular brain is the dodo bird, reputedly being so stupid that they would soon fall out of the face of existence all together). This barb was unconsciously ignored by Ginny; it was rather surprising that she could concentrate on anything in the face of such exciting gossip. Hermione tried to talk to Ginny about something else as she detached a letter from the leg of a school owl, addressed to her by a strange handwriting that she had never seen before.

This letter, having excited Ginny to no end, Hermione was determined to open when she was alone, so that she would not be greeted with sighs and squeals of "Ooh! A love letter!" from Ginny. Hermione felt like pulling her hair out in frustration and screaming like a banshee.

* * *

Her anger was noted by a dark haired Slytherin sitting over a cup of coffee. This certain Slytherin grinned to himself as he realized (so he thought) the implications of goody-two-shoes Granger's anger.

* * *

Ginny, however, despite being deterred from reading Hermione's love letter, happily continued her assault of twenty-questions so she could be kept up to date with her friend's love life. Thankfully, as her attention was not wholly absorbed, she was able to deflect the bread roll that Harry threw at her head, for the second time in the morning, with a simple _Protego_ charm. 

"Sorry Ginny, but I have to talk to Hermione, and the only way to stop you from launching into a fully-formed, hour long gossip session was to, ah, divert your attentions."

The incipience of Ginny's frown was soothed by the sincerely apologetic expression on Harry's face. Hermione gave Harry the thumbs-up as she took the opportunity to cram a croissant into her mouth; blissfully aware of the fact that Ginny's attention was not on her any longer. Leaving Ginny to the company of Neville, who shuffled into the Hall in his pajamas (he had forgotten where his robes were), Harry and Hermione left the Great Hall in search of Ron, agreeing mutually that the 'Gossiper' should definitely be blacklisted in 'The Monster Book of Monsters".

Ron's nose itched. It tickled in the most irritatingly possible way, the sort of itch that made you want to rip your own nose of to relieve yourself of the achingly _annoying_ gentle sensation. He swore he heard a giggle as he swatted his nose, trying to squash the source of his problems. He began swearing in earnest when he _felt_ his nose going red from the impact of his hand.

Wait, was that a laugh?

That was definitely a laugh. With difficulty, Ron clawed his way out of his cocoon of elf-hats (which he had stolen from Hermione's stash so the house elves wouldn't tidy his quarters. What if he didn't want his sheets to be tucked tightly in? Hmmm?) And Chudly Cannons memorabilia. Blearily, he blinked open an eye, made no easier by the fact that his eyelids felt heavier than a pair of pregnant hippogriffs.

The image of Harry and Hermione standing over his bed with a feather magically levitated above his nose came slowly into focus. With a Herculean effort, he swore again and leapt out of his bed to get away from the feather that was too close to his nose for comfort.

"Why, Good afternoon to you, sleepy-head," Harry smirked, "About time you decided to rejoin humanity. There was a last rasher of bacon we told Ginny to save for you, although, she must have eaten it by now, after all the time we spent trying to rouse you." Ron was now fully awake. The last rasher of bacon. Gone? He felt like crying. There is no way the last. Rudding. Rasher. Of. Bacon. Could. Be. Gone. Not on his life, oh no way sir! He sniffed. The trauma of not having any bacon for breakfast, his brain must have decided, was too much to bear.

Laughing, Hermione handed Ron the bacon and egg muffin she had bought especially for him at moments like this, when, she would have like to tell him, when "Ron was about to have his heart broken by his fellow, gluttonous Griffyndors who gorge themselves on bacon". Just as well, because Hermione was itching to see the results of the prank that she had so painstakingly (not to mention she lost half an hour of sleep over) played on a certain Slytherin.

After Ron had wolfed his muffin down in record time, the trio of Griffyndor's popped a surprise visit to the Slytherin dungeons on Hermione's advice, to see what could possibly delay them from a whole day of freedom in Hogsmeade.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was at a loath of getting up and facing the rest of humanity. Not when he had barely seven hours of sleep and looked like a hag. He didn't even have time to change out of his robes when he finally got to bed after Astronomy. By Merlin it was awful, his robes must be rumpled even worse than Dobby's tea cozy! 

Suppressing a moan of disgust, and not really wanting to see the results of sleeping in his especially tailored robes, he cracked open and eye and faced his reflection in his mirror. And promptly screamed. There was Weasley in his room! What on earth did Blaise slip into his drink to possess him and Weasley.

Draco turned green and rushed to the bathroom. Fortunately, the urge to dry heave was over by the time he got there, and his sleep addled brain, after all the strain of his early morning run to the bathroom, finally decided to re-establish itself as the principle-thinking organ of Draco Malfoy. After holding his face over the washbasin for several minutes, and splashing his face several times with icy-cold water. Draco wondered what charms he would cast so that he could resemble a human being (he thought it would be wise to forget the trauma of seeing Weasel in his bedroom. Shudder).

So he braved his reflection. And almost screamed again. By Merlin! Draco rushed back to his room and looked in his mirror again, and heaved a great sigh of relief. So it wasn't Weasley after all! It was just his ruddy reflection! The fact that he did NOT sleep with Ronald Weasley was like a soothing balm to his traumatized brain. But, there was still a downside that his reflection was not of Weasley. What on earth was Draco Malfoy, trademarked white-blonde sex-god of Hogwarts doing with flame-red hair and golden robes with "FERRET KING" emblazoned with red embroidery?

And, for the second time in the morning, Draco Malfoy screamed.

* * *

Hermione and Ron stood impatiently around our favorite statue of Mazork-the-Great, whilst Harry consulted the Marauder's Map of how to get into the Slytherin dungeon, where, Hermione had told them (after consulting the Map), a wonderful surprise was waiting for them. Harry was rather dubious, because the only thing, or person rather, in the dungeons was Draco Malfoy. And, coincidentally, 'Malfunction' did not usually tend to be one of the things that could be considered as a pleasant surprise on a Sunday morning. 

This opinion Harry chose not to diverge to Hermione. Because he knew, from other people's experience, that Hell hath no fury like a Hermione spurned. Fortunately, Harry had not yet been on the receiving end of such rage. Unfortunately, Malfoy was getting just the Hell that Hermione felt he deserved for tricking her into thinking that he did not know how to cast the _Effusio Internus_, and then have the nerve to cast it on her! Causing her to smirk like, like! Hermione frowned when she found she didn't have a simile to describe the fashion in which she had smirked for almost two hours. But, any moment now, she grinned as she studied the little sign which had 'Draco Malfoy' inscribed above it. Any moment now and her revenge would be complete.

Coincidentally, it was exactly five seconds later that the door of the Slytherin dormitories burst open, and a red-haired figure walked out, much to the amazement of Harry and Ron. Hermione outright laughed at the horrified expression on Draco's face. Ron and Harry had identical expressions of shock as they studied the figure wearing glittering, blinding robes of gold and richly embroidered letters that spelt out "Ferret King".

When Draco finally overcame his anguish enough to recognise the three people not so well hidden behind Mazork (who was a very short goblin after all, no matter how stout he may be), he immediately realised three very important things that he should have known very long ago, every since the day in third year when Granger had the audacity to deliver a well aimed stinging slap to his cheek:

Number One. Should you value your life, you should never upset Granger.

Number Two. Granger is not the smartest witch and student in Hogwarts for nothing. She is brilliant. She casts spells that don't budge. Hence the red hair and golden robes that he still sported.

Number Three. Never, never, NEVER get on the wrong side of Granger. Hell hath no fury like a Hermione scorned.

But that made no sense! He thought his peace-offering of one thousand Galleons, donated to the 'worthy' cause of S.P.E.W. would be enough to appease this angry spirit. With another howl, Draco fell into a crumpled heap and gripped his hair in anguish, yelling, "You!" as he spotted Hermione grinning behind Mazork's smug face. "This is the thanks I get for being generous?"

Harry and Ron became more confused than shocked at Malfoy with red hair. Hermione soon joined them in their expression of confusion.

They were heralded with another howl, and "I see no point in living anymore if I can't be beautiful." from the crumpled, golden heap at the entrance of the dungeons.

And thus, Sunday became not only one of the worst days for Harry, but also one of the worst, not to mention humiliating days of the week for Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, but I still haven't managed to get in a Hermione/Draco romance scene before I'm getting kicked off the computer. BUT. Fortunately, as I actually wrote out a story plan, I can safely say it should be coming up in the next chapter! YAY!!!** **It has also come to my attention that this story will take AGES to finish at the rate I'm going (cheers to '-' an anonymous reviewer, HELLO! THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU'RE READING THIS:O) ).**

**So, I'm open to suggestions about the pace this story is going at. Do you want it to develope faster or slower? Leave your thoughts with your review.**

**Also, I'm not quite sure when the next chapter will be up, because I'm going on holidays!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Yes, you can tell I'm _very_ excited, can't you?) So! I hope you enjoy this chapter! In addition to '-', I'd like to thank:**

**cam-is-hot**

**librastar**

**Troubled Tazzy**

**and M0jojojo - thanks for motivating me by threatenning me with fluffy pink bunny/ guillontine thingos. lol.**

**for reviewing!**

**Finally, MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL YOU FANFICTION READERS OUT THERE!!!**

**Evie.**


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